


DSYLM (Don't Say You Love Me)

by pcysarcasm



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Blood and Gore, Bottom Park Chanyeol, M/M, Mafia AU, Top Byun Baekhyun, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pcysarcasm/pseuds/pcysarcasm
Summary: Chanyeol doesn't want a partner on the field, especially not one that is known as a stone cold psychopath but he gets one anyway. Turns out Baekhyun's not too bad.





	1. I.

* * *

_“I’m listening.”_

_On the other end of the line, Baekhyun can hear two kids fighting over which television channel to watch._ _He frowns. It's always the same old thing with those street rats. They are easy to buy, but inefficient when it comes to getting the job done. This man in particular seems to be incapable of completing the easiest tasks._

_Time to remind him of his priorities._

_“Think of your family. You might have deluded yourself into thinking that you have a choice, but you don’t," Baekhyun mutters into his phone, one hand on the receiver, the other tightly wrapped around one fragile throat._

_The man on the line falls silent. Under other circumstances, Baekhyun might have said some more, but now is not the time._

_“I consider this as done,” he sighs, his voice rough like tires against gravel. "Don't make me regret this."_

_After cutting the line, a bitter taste of betrayal lingers under his tongue, threatening to overtake his senses. It's certain he's going to regret letting that rat get away with it._

_"P-Please," a voice begs, reminding Baekhyun of the body beneath him, trapped between his thighs, securely held down to the ground._

_"Please, don't," the man begs, tears streaming down his face. "I don't want to die."_

_Pure anger fills Baekhyun's_ _lungs. He presses his free hand down on the man's mouth, muffling all sounds. Weak legs start to kick again; the body is helplessly squirming on the cold stone. It almost has something comedic, how those limbs are fighting for dominance._

 _A grin begins to stretch over Baekhyun’s face. The muffled screams tearing from the human’s throat don't reach him, his eyes no longer seeing the reality around him, no matter how loud the man begs for mercy._  

 _Seconds later, Baekhyun's palm bears down against lips. Teeth splinter and pop with a squelch from their roots. T_ h _e frantic wails gradually die down to whimpers and are eventually silenced as Baekhyun’s sharp blade parts flesh, muscles and tendons, and allows blood to spill._ _The head slowly drops backwards as the wound deepens and Baekhyun remains still, appreciates the warmth running down his fingers, over his wrist, down to his elbow._

_He closes his eyes and sighs. Time to get to work._

 

* * *

 

 

  _ **Chapter 1**_

 

 

Alone in the hut, Chanyeol warms soup in a pot on the gas stove, stirring in white swirls of milk until the liquid is dark, uniform red. The air in the hut is still, but cold. He hasn’t turned on heater, or the lights.

He isn’t comfortable so far out here in the woods, where the lights of the city can’t reach. He grew up in Seoul, a street kid, thrown away by his parents into the gutter to die. Being outside of the city means no good to him. But a man has to follow orders, so he’s here, waiting for his partner. 

"Byun Baekhyun," he mutters a few times out loud, tasting the sound of it on this tongue, rolling it around in his mouth. This man is strange, remote, unapparent–so unapparent that his name contains him entirely.

_Byun Baekhyun._

Chanyeol laughs bitterly. He pours the soup into a mug, sips it’s chemical sweetness and waits. 

Junmyeon, his boss and probably the most powerful man in Seoul, has informed him about everything a few weeks ago. He would be assigned a partner, Junmyeon had told him and at first, Chanyeol had protested vehemently. The last thing he wanted was a babysitter but Junmyeon had given him no chance to explain himself. Byun Baekhyun was a perfect fit in his eyes. This thought fills him with dismay. Chanyeol takes a breath, sighing it out as though it could dispel these feelings he's beginning to feel stirring within him.

 _Byun Baekhyun._  

A pang of guilt is prodding in the depths of Chanyeol's chest. He's not of high rank, isn't even particularly good at fighting. His boss believes in him– at least Chanyeol thinks he does– but for how much longer, he isn't sure. Chanyeol bites down on his full lower lip, ignoring the nagging sense of unease and an uncomfortable thought forces its way through his stubborn complacency—is he even capable of being on his own? 

Maybe Junmyeon is right about the whole partner thing. And who is Chanyeol to disobey anyway. There has been a time before Kim Junmyeon. Dark times. But Chanyeol has found a place in the world– a home– and he has people on his side, people who count on him.  It's what he hears on the streets that make Chanyeol worry.

At the age of fifteen, Junmyeon's name had already been quite notable among some of the more experienced killers. He had been known in the area not only for his perseverance, but also for making victories where they didn’t seem otherwise likely. Now, twenty years later, his abilities as a leader are respected in the gang, and those who fight with him find themselves fighting harder to keep his light shining. The newer recruits, the ones who have joined after Junmyeon has become the leader of the district, find him easy to follow, motivated by a force that seems far too strong to be just a single person.

Chanyeol, however, knows the emptiness, the loss behind Junmyeon's raging winds. He recognizes his own past reflected in Junmyeon's eyes. And maybe that's why Chanyeol secretly thinks of the man as his family. As long as he's able to fulfill Junmyeon's wishes, he can stay by his side, which ultimately means not having to be alone, not having to navigate the unfamiliar patterns of conversation, the twisting streets and darkened alleys of Seoul. And Chanyeol is willing to do anything for that, even working with someone like Byun Baekhyun. 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as it’s pitch black outside, a fishing boat makes a slow traverse of the bay. It rolls with the swell, it’s bright lights leaving behind a faint trace of sine waves in the night sky. Chanyeol stands up and looks out of the window, barely being able to make out a short man who makes his way to the hut, zipping his coat up under his nose and exhaling into the fabric cave to make warmth.

Chanyeol sighs, opens the door and walks outside. Running away isn’t an option. Orders have to be followed.

The short man greets him with a nod. “Chanyeol,” he mutters with a grin plastered on his face. “Nice finally meeting you.”

It’s too dark to really look the man in the eyes. It makes the whole encounter even more uncomfortable for Chanyeol.

“Let’s cut the bullshit,” he bites back. He readjusts the rifle on his shoulder, and puts his head down to the wind. He can’t believe that his babysitter is almost two heads shorter than him.

The short man rolls his tongue over his sharp teeth and smiles dryly. “Fine.”

Chanyeol starts to walk, up in the hill, into the pitch black woods. Behind him, the man follows quietly. When they’re near the place, Chanyeol flashes his spotlight. His blood is up, thumping away in his ears. Scooting through the darkness, he begins to search for the metallic gleam of the door handle.

The hut is small. Spider webs drape across Chanyeol’s face and break as he walks in, tingling on the back of his neck. Baekhyun lights up a lamp shortly after, and it's light filters through the gaps illuminating the mud and standing water in strange rectangles. Dust particles dance randomly in that brown streak of light, seemingly leaping from the nest of sprawled papers on the desk, to the half emptied chest of drawers. Clothes gather in piles around the room, between trash and empty alcohol bottles.

The man points at the figure on the ground. “How old is she?" he asks.

“Haven’t had the time to check the papers.”

Attention shifts to the small girl, who is sitting on the dirty ground, back pressed against the wall. She withers, shrinking into herself. She’s tiny, with huge eyes, and beneath the dirt, her features are soft and beautiful.

The short man takes a few steps forward and crouches down, examining her face carefully. “I say she’s fourteen unless she says different.”

The girl’s eyes grow wide and tears being to run down her face. Chanyeol’s throat is suddenly tight and hatred stabs through him. He hates the short man, hates the mafia, hates himself. He clears his throat and represses the anger. “You think she’s good enough?”

The Baekhyun turns and Chanyeol almost forgets to breathe. Two sparkling blue eyes seem to pierce through him. It had been too dark to make out Byun Baekhyun’s features previously and Chanyeol takes it all in now, the short man’s light features and soothing expression catching him off guard. The man is handsomer than anyone Chanyeol has ever met.

“Probably,” Baekhyun snorts and shrugs. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice Chanyeol’s oggling. “You never know with them these days. Let’s just hope for the best.”

 

* * *

Later that night, when Baekhyun is soundlessly asleep, Chanyeol quietly sits down next to the girl. “Is this okay?” 

The girl doesn't reply, her chest quivering as she lets out rasp breaths.

“You're safe here," Chanyeol says, trying his best to sound reassuring. As he shifts closer, he can hear her silent crying, her soft wheezes giving away that she's breathing out with her mouth. He softly caresses her shoulder with his hand. In his inert state, he knows there is something else he can do, but he doesn’t know what it is.

After a beat, Chanyeol slowly wraps an arm around the girl's waist, hesitant and gentle. He hushes at her as he gently rocks back and forth.

 

* * *

 

 

Chanyeol is part of the korean mafia for quite some time now. Not that he’s proud of that. Working with Wu Yifan is just one of the many things he dislikes about his job.

“Ten thousand! Ten! This isn’t ten!” Yifan’s face is rage-red. He grabs Jongdae’s shirt and lifts him off the ground. Chanyeol ducks his head. He can’t watch this. Even after almost a year of working under the man, he can’t become numb to the violence.

“This is ten!” Yifan shouts, spit flying. As his hand slaps across Jongdae’s face, Chanyeol realizes it’s a performance. Not the beating, Yifan is definitely hurting Jongdae, but he’s doing it with an open hand. It’s louder this way. Yifan isn’t even paying attention to Jongdae. He is watching the group of men, enjoying their fear.

“Who’s next?” Yifan asks, dropping Jongdae. Chanyeol steps forward quickly so that Yifan won’t kick his friend.

“A girl. Around the age of fourteen. Average height, black hair. Asian ethnicity.”

Yifan smirks. “I told you blondes bring more money.” He takes a step forward, and spits onto Chanyeol’s face.

“Why don’t you join the pretty girls then, Yifan? You’re blonde after all,” Chanyeol bites back.

The man’s fist catches him on the ear and black spots bottle out the world as he hits the ground. Chanyeol blinks up at Yifan, whose hair glows like a halo as it blocks the electric light, and thinks he’s going to die.

“That’s enough.”

Chanyeol rolls over and sees Baekhyun emerging from the shadows. He must have been there the whole time, leaning against the wall, watching them quietly.

Yifan wipes his face, and Chanyeol can see the rage cool so suddenly it’s almost more frightening than seeing his sudden heat. The tall man’s face clears, and he smiles down at Chanyeol.

“Don’t forget who you are,” he sneers before turning to the next guy, continuing with business. _Don’t forget how you got here_ is what he really means, and Chanyeol knows that.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, you’re about as smart as a piece of bread,” Sehun says, coming to join Chanyeol and the girl. “One day you’re gonna end up dead.”

“He spat onto my face.”

“And?” Sehun chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Better than being dead, don’t you think?”

They are propped against a wall, sharing the loaf Chanyeol had bought earlier. The smell of baking, though less intense this late in the day, covers at least a bit of the repulsive smell of garbage which piles up on the bank of the river.

Chanyeol absentmindedly rips the loaf of bread into thirds, then scowls. Two are about the same size, the third a bit smaller. He puts one of the bigger ones on his thigh, and handles the other big one to the girl. He’s about the give the smallest piece to Sehun when the girl’s face puckers in disapproval. Chanyeol sighs and takes the small piece for himself.

Sehun doesn’t even notice. “You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut when it’s needed,” he complains.

“I won’t end up like Jongdae.”

It’s not that Chanyeol dislikes Jongdae. The boy is kind hearted and sweet. Chanyeol sometimes wonders what he’s doing in the mafia. But the thing is, Chanyeol doesn’t want to be like that- so weak.

There’s something about power that Chanyeol can’t quite grasp. He’s the tallest under all the men he has met so far - even taller than Yifan - and he’s well built. On top of that he’s a clever thief, and successful businessman. Shouldn’t that be enough to earn the respect of Junmyeon’s men? Apparently not, because no matter how hard he tries, he has no power, no control over anyone. He still needs to prove his worth. And that’s exactly why he can’t tolerate Yifan insulting him publicly.

“Yeol, once Junmyeon leaves the city, Yifan will be our headman. He’ll take over all Seoul districts.” Sehun shakes his head. “You’ve been here for what? A year? You’ll never make it. Yifan will make Jongdae look lucky compared to you.”

“So what do you think I should do? Keep my head down and subject to Yifan’s bullshit?”

A bitter taste appears in Chanyeol’s mouth as he thinks back to what happened earlier. Without his new partner it would have ended badly. He doesn’t know why Yifan respects Baekhyun, and maybe - just maybe - Chanyeol’s ego is a bit hurt.

Sehun smiles, his teeth brilliant against his black suit. “If I tell you a secret can you keep it quiet?”

Chanyeol chirps a brow and leans in. “I can. Not so sure about the girl over there.”

They both turn toward where she sits, both her feet and her hands tied securely with a rope. Sehun is supposed to wait here with her until the other men - probably someone from lower rank like Kim Jongdae - come to pick her up. From then on her life will be horrible. Chanyeol suspects that they will sell her on the black market.

She scowls at them. Sehun reaches out and pulls her close. She fights against him, but when he lets his arm drop, she doesn’t scoot away.

“You’re a tough one,” Sehun says, then breaks into a grin. “You may actually make it.”

Right when he’s about to say more, a short man appears in the darkness, jumping down the small wall and staring at them with dead, cold eyes.

Baekhyun exudes an aura of danger and power. He’s primal masculinity. It washes over Chanyeol like a wave that is threatening to pull him out to the sea and he can hardly breathe.

“Park, get your fat ass of the ground. Your lover’s here,” Sehun snickers and the tension subsides. He of course has no partner, and can work on his own. He doesn’t have to take another guy everywhere he goes and subject to his will. Unlike Chanyeol, he’s respected.

Back is the bitter taste in Chanyeol’s mouth. He pays Sehun no mind, gets up quickly, pulls his cloak tight around his shoulders and follows the short man down the street.

“Where are we going?” he asks Baekhyun, trying to ignore the bubbling fear. It’s unsettling to deal with a man who doesn’t value life.

“Cheonho-dong,” Baekhyun answers. He’s wearing a killer outfit, Chanyeol realizes nervously. His clothes are made of a dark cotton, thin and cut for easy movement. Chanyeol wonders briefly why they are heading to the east of Seoul. The streets are safe there.

“Are you ready to hear the job?” Baekhyun asks.

Chanyeol clenches his jaw. “Shoot.”

Baekhyun’s blue eyes touch his, and Chanyeol feels a tingle all the way up his spine. “Today is important, kid. We will break into a highly secured building and kill an officer of high rank. I’m not allowing any mistakes.”

Chanyeol’s face feels hot. “What do you take me for? I can fight.”

“The question is can you sneak in, kill a man in secret and get home safely,” Baekhyun retorts coldly.

It sounds like a challenge to Chanyeol. He smirks. Nothing’s better than that.

 

* * *

 

When their destination comes in sight, Chanyeol spots guards. One is fidgeting, awkwardly turning his whole head to look to both sides of the house. The other seems more calm, pointedly staring in every direction. As they come closer, Chanyeol recognizes the men despite the darkness. They are ordinary police men. They aren’t big, strong men, weathered and hardened from exposure to the elements and battle. It should be easy to break into the building despite them being here. If they are successful, the police men won’t even know they’re here until it’s too late.

As expected they find an unlocked window on the second floor of the mansion and get inside without attracting any attention. The police officer’s wife is asleep in the bed, snoring gently and laying more in the middle than to one side.

Baekhyun slides into the room, softening the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun draws his knife and walks towards the sleeping woman. He blinks a few times before he remembers that he has to search for the officer while Baekhyun is doing his part of the job.

Chanyeol steps into the hall and hears a voice coming from the room downstairs. He quickly hurries down the hall.

The officer sits close to the fire, a book in his lap and his face a mask of intense concentration. The chair creaks as the officer shifts his weight. He’s a huge man, both tall and wide, and little of his bulk is fat.

Chanyeol knows that his wife is probably already dead. If the rumors are true, Baekhyun is quick and efficient when it comes to work. Chanyeol needs to hurry. He can hear the rush of blood in his ears as he brings the knife up to eye level, preparing to cut the officer’s throat. He just has to slash across the jugular and deep through the windpipe.

_Nothing complicated._

The officer is inches away from Chanyeol and hasn’t heard him yet but the very nearness freaks Chanyeol out. A tangled lump of emotions that he has kept shoved into some corner of his heart surges and bursts through the doors.

Chanyeol almost chokes on a sob. He blinks his eyes hard, trying to get a hold of himself. But it doesn’t work. He can’t do it. He slides his knife back into his jacket, ignoring the twin feelings of relief and despair he’s feeling. Kim Junmyeon is going to kill him when he finds out that he fucked up this job.

“Chanyeol?” a voice whispers, barley noticeable. Chanyeol flinches and turns his head. Baekhyun stands in the door, quickly scanning the scene, hands drenched in blood. For a moment he looks almost confused, the way he stares at the officer and then up to Chanyeol. _Why is the guy still alive?_ is plastered on his face.

Chanyeol feels a lump in his throat. This is humiliation at its finest. He flushes red, mortified. He wants to sink through the floor. There’s a moment of hesitation before Baekhyun moves. It’s barely noticeable but Chanyeol spots it. For in what couldn’t have been more than half a minute, the officer is dead, blood streaming all over his shirt. The cut is clean, neat and beautiful. Chanyeol blinks in confusion.

 _How can an open throat be beautiful?_ Then, another thought. The officer is dead. Baekhyun killed him- killed him but why? It’s beyond Chanyeol’s comprehension that his world can turn so completely upside down so quickly. He fucked up but Baekhyun fixed it for him- _killed for him_. Which means Junmyeon won’t harm him. He will live, given that Baekhyun won’t tell the boss about it.

It’s hard to digest what just has happened. The Byun Baekhyun; a man known as an emotional cripple who kills people without remorse; a typical mafia guy, who knows no shame, no morals has just saved his life. Chanyeol really doesn’t know what to feel. He wonders if Baekhyun has lost his mind. Baekhyun acts like it’s normal though, as if Chanyeol isn’t the most pathetic man he has ever seen, turns and takes the exit out of the window, back to the main street.

Chanyeol can barely stifle an overpowering urge to scream after the boy as barely controlled rage washes over his face in a crimson wave. He totally messed up their job, the first they had as a team, all because of his weakness and stupidity, his failure. And now his.. _partner_ has helped him. Helped. _Had_ to help because Chanyeol is too weak to do it by himself. Weakly, he stumbles towards the bathroom door, body tense with undealt deaths, but he knows he can’t achieve release. Instead he squats in the dark and disgorges everything he ate and drank that day.

Trembling, livid, with teary eyes, Chanyeol exists the crime scene and catches up to Baekhyun who's waiting for him outside. They walk back to the main street side by side, none of them saying a word. Chanyeol feels as if he has been clubbed in the stomach. Baekhyun merely nods at him as they part their ways. Not even one sneery remark. Nothing.

Chanyeol wonders why Baekhyun isn’t angry at him. It’s probably because Baekhyun doesn’t mind killing people. Chanyeol wonders briefly if this could have something to do with the man being nice or whatever but then dismisses it. Baekhyun obviously doesn’t give two fucks about him, or anyone at that matter.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath and makes his way downtown. It’s still too early to go home. There’s probably a lot of work waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

When Chanyeol gets back to the head quarters he tries to find Sehun, but his best friend is gone, leaving a typically short note: “On a job.” Sehun doesn’t often give Chanyeol a lot of detail on his jobs, but Chanyeol can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Lately it’s as if Sehun is trying to create space between them and Chanyeol feels more and more excluded.

“Chanyeol,” Kim Junmyeon calls out as Chanyeol tries to sneak past his office to get to the stairs. ”Would you please come in for a moment?”

Chanyeol curses inwardly. He wanted to get a few hours of sleep before doing some chores for the boss but he can forget that now. He tries not to look like a stubborn child as he steps into Junmyeon’s office.

The boss cubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses sit. “How are things working out with Byun?” he asks. As always, he sits with his back straight, luxurious suit perfect, hair immaculately coifed.

Chanyeol sighs and sits down. His new partner is the last thing he wants to talk about right now. “Everything’s fine,” he mutters.

Junmyeon watches him expressionlessly. The blood rushing through Chanyeol’s entire face is answer enough.

“I told you to get along with him,” Junmyeon sighs, leaning forward in his chair. “I hope you didn’t disappoint me, Chanyeol.”

“Boss, I-”

Junmyeon raises a hand, pained. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and stares at the wall behind Chanyeol. “I want you two to get along. He’s one of the most feared men in the mafia. There’s a reason why I chose him to be your partner. I see potential in you, boy.”

Chanyeol shrugs and looks down to his hands. It feels good that Junmyeon trusts him. He’s the only person in Chanyeol’s life who actually thinks he’s of some worth and honestly, he couldn’t be more thankful for the man who has saved him from the streets.

Kim Junmyeon might be the head of the korean mafia in Seoul but he’s also the man who has given Chanyeol his first job and a safe home. Chanyeol couldn’t be more grateful for that. Even though failure will be punished, and Junmyeon would never turn a blind eye on him, Chanyeol knows that Junmyeon can be trusted. The man wants just the best for him. By this logic, Chanyeol concludes, Byun Baekhyun must be the best partner for him or Junmyeon hadn’t chosen him.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so against this whole thing. Maybe, just maybe, working with Baekhyun will be more fun than he originally thought.

“You can learn a lot from him, Chanyeol. If you let him teach you, that is.” Junmyeon let’s out a long, heavy sigh. “Do you understand that?” he asks.

Chanyeol frowns for a moment. Maybe Junmyeon is right. It’s not like he has to like Baekhyun. He just has to get along with him. It shouldn’t be that hard.

 

* * *

 

 

The chamber is a tight rectangle, but it’s deep. The ceiling is so high it disappears in the darkness. Carved from marble, a platform dominates the room. A few chairs sit on the platform, and a chair made of glass sits above them like a throne. There’s only bare floor facing the chairs. Those the boss interviews must stand.

Baekhyun walks in with an easy familiarity. The night holds no terror for him. The shadows welcome his eyes, hide nothing from him. He doesn’t take a seat today, but only looks up at Kim Junmyeon, who is seated comfortably. He’s as still and silent as usual.

“The wife is dead, I assume?” Kim Minseok asks. He’s an elegant, handsome man in his thirties with a reputation for cruelty, especially towards those men in the mafia he manages.

Baekhyun nods and gives his report briefly. Now that the officer is dead, the men whom Junmyeon had feared would arrest him, won’t press their charges. That leaves the Seoul district to Cha Dong-Tak, who is too weak to dare interfering with the mafia.

Junmyeon turns his heavy-lidded eyes to Baekhyun. “It has come to my attention that Park has been having some _trouble_... I'm curious," he says, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can confirm none of that," Baekhyun says camly. His gaze drifts across the other men in the room and his mind calculates the ten fastest ways to kill them before anyone even realizes it. "I didn't even have to do much. We managed to get into the building without attracting any attention and it took him no longer than 10 minutes to finish them both."

Junmyeon leans his head to the right. "You didn’t kill tonight?” he asks.

Baekhyun looks at him, refusing to take the provocation. He thinks about just telling the truth, exposing Park Chanyeol, going home and getting a good night's rest. His partner would be dead by tomorrow, labeled as a weak, incompetent man and therefor sentenced to death. It’s the natural order of things. But somehow Baekhyun finds it hard to let the boy die. Chanyeol is so pure, so unlike himself. In all the human waste and evil, he’s like a fresh breeze, a breath of hope.

Words are useless with a man like Kim Junmyeon. Baekhyun walks up to him. The man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t turn aside as Baekhyun comes towards the platform, though several of the other men in the room are clearly nervous.

Before he can reach the man, Yixing - one of the best fighters in Seoul - jumps up and blocks his way. “Just lie your way out of it like you always do, Byun,” the man spits out.

Yixing is tall, but his mass is all lean muscle and sinew.

“Let me pass,” Baekhyun says, his tone of voice almost languid.

Yixing doesn’t even blink before he attacks. Baekhyun merely extends both hands, unclenched, but when Yixing’s fist beats down, the impossible happens. Instead of crushing the short man, he’s crashing to the stone floor.

“Stop!” Kim Jongin shouts.

Yixing moans in pain as his bleeding nose fills the mouth of a goddess carved into the rock floor.

“What is it, Baekhyun?” Junmyeon asks curiously. He doesn’t seem to be angered, his face as free from emotion and cold as always.

Baekhyun smirks. “You wanted to know if I can still kill?” he asks. Before he can pull his knife and attack Yixing, who's still lying beneath him, bleeding all over the floor, Junmyeon nods quickly. “Alright, alright," he says. "For now I'll believe that Park Chanyeol killed the officer and his wife.”

Baekhyun doesn’t move, he just looks Junmyeon in the eye. The boss sighs loudly.

“Don’t forget you still take your orders from me, Byun. Next time you harm one of my men, there will be consequences. Now get the hell out.”

 

* * *

 

When Chanyeol arrives at home, his roommate Sehun is already soundlessly asleep. He doesn’t feel like going to bed yet, so he sits down in the living room, a cup of cheap vodka in his hand and a lot of confusing thoughts in his head.

He can see Baekhyun. In his head. He can see his face, his soft features, the dance of life within his big, blue eyes, and the nameless grace the man wears like skin. And the coldness; the dark emptiness that's there when Baekhyun is still and there in the way he moves his body like moving is a great art. In the way he holds his fingers and crosses his legs. He owns this grace married with a sharp intelligence which seems to wear itself in the strength of his eyes. And his eyes… those eyes look like they have seen in all the long hidden secrets. Chanyeol can almost feel Baekhyun's touch on his skin too. It’s sickening, this desire. But there’s not only the sexual attraction- this man makes him furious too.

With fury arcing through his body, he doesn’t think there is much of anything that could make him and Byun Baekhyun become good partners. The hard, crystal-clear rage he had felt earlier when the man had killed the officer for him is still present in Chanyeol’s memory. There’s just no way that he can work with that man side by side, trusting Baekhyun with his life when even such a simple, friendly act causes him to be that angry.

But it’s not like his world is cut into black and white, right and wrong. Chanyeol works for the mafia, he knows what people are capable of. All the cruelty and depravity he has seen in the last years have transformed him from a soft-hearted, lonely boy to the man he’s now. There are no good and bad people.

Chanyeol comes to the conclusion that he has to get his feelings under control. He and Baekhyun will work together on every job from now on and he has to get used to it, no matter how annoying it might be. More than anything, he wants to make Kim Junmyeon proud. Years ago, the man had told him that suicide is a coward’s way out, a sin against nature. Chanyeol owns him his life, the least he can do is getting along with Baekhyun.

Chanyeol takes a sip of vodka. He thinks about his partner, the way Baekhyun looked almost beautiful while cutting the officers throat wide open. Surely that must have been his imagination. A hallucination. Chanyeol feels so weird thinking about Baekhyun this way.

It’s true that there’s a lot about the man that could be described as beautiful, from the way he moves his hips when he walks to his dazzling blue eyes, but there shouldn’t be anything endearing about the way he’s killing. That’s just not right.

It’s way past midnight when Chanyeol falls asleep, sheer exhaustion finally taking over.

 

* * *

 

The strong smell of freshly made tea wakes him up in the morning. It takes him several seconds to consider why the smell of tea and smoke is filtering through his room. When the realization hits him, Chanyeol pushes himself upright, rubbing at his face and his hair.

Sehun sits next to him on the big couch, smoking, using Chanyeol’s favorite mug as an ashtray. The television is on and two tea cups are standing on the glass table.

"Good Morning, Sleeping Beauty. That one on the right’s yours," Sehun chatters, turning towards Chanyeol. "It's peppermint, just as you like it."

"God," he mumbles, slowly getting up. "Will you be quiet? I'm getting a headache."

"This is how you treat me after I made you this precious tea?" his friend scoffs and pouts. "You are so ungrateful, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and quickly changes into some clean clothes. When he comes back into the living room, Sehun patts the empty space next to him and he accepts the invitation, sits down next to him and takes a sip of the warm tea. 

Perhaps Sehun has noticed some of his internal struggle these past days because he waits until Chanyeol takes his third sip of tea, then says, "So, that new partner of yours,- Baekhyun. You two get along?"

Chanyeol gives a light shrug. He swallows. His knuckles are white where his hands pressed against the cup.

“He does seem like a tough guy,” Sehun sighs, placing his cup back on the table. “I asked around about him and people have been telling me that he doesn’t really have friends or anything of that sort.”

Chanyeol shrugs again and takes another sip of tea, eyes darted to the TV. He has no will to speak about Baekhyun.

Sehun tilts his head towards him, his voice low. “You would still fuck him though, wouldn’t you?”

Chanyeol gives him a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Byun Baekhyun’s delicious butt.”

A deep chuckle escapes Chanyeol's throat. “Delicious butt- Do you even listen to yourself talk, Sehun?”

Sehun snorts.

“What?”

He gives Chanyeol a look. “I know your type, don’t even try to pretend that you haven’t checked him out.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and they drop the topic. Even though Sehun is one of the only people who know of Chanyeol's sexual preferences they don't talk about it often.

"Oh, fuck!" Sehun suddenly says, jumping up from his seat. "I'm supposed to be at work in 20 minutes." Turning, he pats Chanyeol on the shoulder and gives him a brotherly look. "Gotta go. See you tonight!" 

"Have fun and bring me those donuts around the corner when you come home," Chanyeol says, turning his attention back to the TV.

Then, he suddenly remembers something. Sehun isn’t the only one with a very important meeting today.

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol gags as he opens the door to the factory building. He’s late, so god damn late. Baekhyun has messaged him an address two hours earlier.

 _Two_. Fucking. Hours.

Chanyeol knows he’s fucked. A quick glance tells the story. Baekhyun had been trapped in here earlier, together with a bunch of dangerous guys, so much is clear. From the way the dead bodies are scattered, it must have been Baekhyun, shooting several gang members like fish in a barrel.

Chanyeol almost throws up as he makes his way through the building. The factory stinks of blood and feces released in death, the bitter scent of urine threads through the stench. He hopes Baekhyun has managed to kill them all without being harmed himself. If his partner dies because of his default, Chanyeol’s just as fucked. Junmyeon is not a man of kindness when it comes to failure.

From the streaks of blood coming out of the door that leads upstairs, it looks like only one gang member had survived long enough to drag himself away. Sickened, Chanyeol runs up and finds his dead body on the stairs.

There’s a wide, sticky puddle of blood at the entrance of the floor upstairs. Not a good sign.

“You’re late,” a blur of shadow says and Baekhyun steps out of the room on Chanyeol’s right. “There are still a few men down the floor.”

Heat rushes into Chanyeol’s cheeks. He doesn’t know if from rage or embarrassment. “I’m sorry I-”

Baekhyun snorts, shaking his head. “Draw you knife and fight, pretty boy. Don’t waste my time with excuses.”

In that moment, a man stumbles out of one of the rooms down the hall, a loaded gun in his hand, and Chanyeol thinks it’s over. But before the man can even attempt to shoot, Baekhyun launches into a blistering attack so fast it should have been impossible.

The man staggers backwards, blocking some of Baekhyun’s blows, and jumping back to avoid more. He kicks a chair at Baekhyun and saves himself in one of the rooms. Baekhyun blocks it with a foot, but it catches him off-balance, and he almost trips.

Chanyeol storms after the gang member and manages to knock him out, obtaining the man’s gun. Right when he’s about to turn around, another two criminals appear at the door. They must have been hiding in one of the other rooms down the hall. Fear flashes through Chanyeol.

Baekhyun quickly attacks one of them, his knife flicking towards black eyes, but it’s only a feint. His real attack is a kick at the man’s knee, causing the gang member to drop backward towards the wall. Baekhyun quickly hits the other man across the face and gives him a kick in the stomach, his feet barely slowed by the arms the man brings up as he draws a knife.

Chanyeol jumps up, leaving the unconscious man beneath to himself, but Baekhyun doesn’t need his help. Now that both of the men are gasping for air, it’s almost too easy for Baekhyun to kill them. Two fast, clean cuts and their throats are open. Their bodies slide to the ground, their heads smacking roughly on the ground. Their limbs are loose, lying in an uncomfortable position. Unmoving. Just like any corpse.

“Our job is done here,” Baekhyun says, his voice oddly strangled. Raw, husky.

Chanyeol blinks. “It was plan to kill them all?”

“Not really.” The short man shrugs. “The boss had a feeling that their leader got the idea that he could sell some of his drugs without giving Junmyeon the rightful share.”

Chanyeol lifts an eyebrow. 

"What?" Baekhyun chuckles. "What can I say? Whoops." 

They make their way out of the factory, Chanyeol texting the boss about the outcome of things and Baekhyun lighting up a cig. Some men in the lower ranks will be sent to the factory to take care of the mess they're leaving behind - blood, corpses and destruction.

“Wanna go for a drink?” Baekhyun asks out of the blue and Chanyeol, still on his phone, almost stumbles over his own two feet.

“Sure,” he stutters out, trying to still the racing of his heart. Nothing to be nervous about, he tells himself. Just two adult men, sharing some drinks.

Baekhyun seems pleased with the answer and walks up to a black car- a brand new Audi A4 as Chanyeol notices, a tiny bit impressed. Baekhyun takes his place in the driver seat and Chanyeol draws in a slow breath to calm his nerves before getting in himself. Moments later, the car is on its way to the nearest club.

 

* * *

 

 

The streets are crowded when Chanyeol and Baekhyun arrive at their destination. There’s a long line in front of the club but the security guy seems to recognize Baekhyun and winks them through.

Inside, the security is daunting. Chanyeol notices around five men, stationed in front of the entrance of the dance floor. Three men which are pacing among the dancing crowd. Two more are talking at the bar.

“Is it safe for us here?” Chanyeol asks over the loud thumps of music.

Baekhyun merly scowls before walking off. Chanyeol takes it as a yes and follows the short man to the VIP section of the club.

Several glances are being thrown at them as they make their way through the crowd, and Chanyeol doesn’t fail to notice with how much respect and fear the people eye them up. Baekhyun must be very well known to receive this kind of attention.

The other thing that Chanyeol definitely notices is Baekhyun’s backside. The small body is formed like an hourglass, hips squeezing deliciously in those tight black jeans, making sure Chanyeol doesn’t need his imagination. It’s basically so tight Baekhyun could be naked instead. Not that Chanyeol is about to complain. Never in his life has he had seen a guy with such a well formed behind. Right when his eyes travel further down, now savouring two thick thighs, Baekhyun sits down.

Chanyeol takes a seat on the couch too, and tucks at his shirt. Nervousness is not even the right word to begin to describe the tight knot that has settled in his stomach and is pushing through his chest, making it harder for him to breathe. Maybe following a known psychopathic murder into a strange club isn’t the best idea, Chanyeol thinks and almost curses out loud.

“So what is a guy like you doing in the mafia?” Baekhyun asks, his tone flat, apathetic.

“Like me?” It comes out more sharply than Chanyeol had intended. But Baekhyun seems not to have noticed. “You don’t fit the money hungry killer type that I usually meet,” he simply says, eyes on some girl a few feet away.

“I have my reasons,” Chanyeol mutters, and slightly turns to his right. He’s now able to catch a glance at the girl Baekhyun is staring up and down.

She’s small and her long, golden hair is curling down her back. Her skin is covered in light freckles and a rosy glow is tinting her puffy cheeks. Chanyeol’s eyes travel down her body, taking notice of her small breasts. “So this is why we got here?” he scoffs, bringing his attention back to Baekhyun.

The latter’s lips twitch. “Not your type?”

“Not really.” An odd, detached thought comes to Chanyeol as he watches Baekhyun calling the girl over to order a drink. Out of all the people in the club, Baekhyun is the one who matches his taste the most.

“Thank you princess,” Baekhyun says to the waitress before taking a sip of his drink. Chanyeol really dislikes the way the girl smiles at the pet name and a part of him is relieved to see that it has no impact on Baekhyun.

A few moments later, the waitress is gone and Chanyeol suddenly feels strangely disappointed. He had hoped - hell, expected - that that he would have Baekhyun’s full attention. Dancing with the man would have been nice too. But of course Baekhyun is here to fuck a girl. Of course.

A snide comment dries on Chanyeol’s tongue as he sees into Baekhyun’s eyes. The blue is taking away his breath, making it hard to concentrate. There’s something, almost like a light beneath all that boundless, roaring, devouring darkness in his eyes, that cause Chanyeol to break out into sweat. And it's both so attractive – the darkness and the light. 

“So what’s your type then?” 

Chanyeol blinks and tries to somehow shut his senses off to the evil in the man before him. He forces nonchalance in his voice and folds his arms, pushing up his sleeves to show off his biceps. “What do you think?”

The smirk on Baekhyun’s face widens. He leans slightly forward and places a warm hand on Chanyeol’s thigh.

“I think you should ask me to dance with you,” he says, squeezing what he can grab. The touch sends volts of electricity up Chanyeol’s spine and he decides to just do exactly that. He stands up and drags a very amused Baekhyun towards the dance floor.

When Chanyeol turns, he realizes his mistake. He actually has no idea how to dance. Baekhyun seems to wait for him to make a move but Chanyeol really doesn’t know what to do so he just stands there awkwardly, watching the sweaty crowd around them grinding on each other. He’s nervous, confused and- envious. He wants to dance too, wants to be as free as those strangers are and feel good for once.

"Do you know how to dance?" Baekhyun asks now, blinking up to him in confusion.

Chanyeol swallows, heat flushing over his cheeks and he quickly nods. He can’t let the man see how unbalanced he is. Every bit of him is now focused on trying to appear relaxed, calm. It doesn’t seem to work because Baekhyun suddenly smirks and makes a step forward, extending his hand in an open invitation.

Chanyeol shifts his feet, unsure of what to do. When he looks down, blue eyes are on his face, reading him. Baekhyun sees his blush. After a brief hesitation, the short man places his hand on Chanyeol's arm.

"Stop thinking," he mutters, almost annoyed. "You think too much."

Baekhyun pulls him forward, close to him, and Chanyeol feels even more like an awkward high school kid. Anxiety flashes across his face and the next thing he knows is he’s dancing. He’s dimly aware of Baekhyun’s smile, his mouth, inches from his and his breath, warm and sweet, his hand occasionally touching his waist.

The music is getting louder and louder with each passing second and Baekhyun’s body is suddenly all over him, thighs and butt grinding down his legs, fingers brushing through his hair and pulling at his waist. It’s too much Baekhyun for Chanyeol’s brain to focus and he feels high with the the joy of just existing. For a few thumping hours, he lets go of everything. His problems are floating far away and when Baekhyun breathes up his neck, Chanyeol laughs uproariously.

The more they dance, the less Chanyeol feels self-conscious, sweat comes through their clothes and their hair sticks out in fronds. He feels so hot, especially when Baekhyun suddenly raises his arms above his head, letting himself ride the music, pressing his full back against Chanyeol. His's hands came to rest on Baekhyun’s waist, and tighten reflexively. The music fades into the background when Baekhyun turns and their eyes met. Chanyeol finds himself staring at Baekhyun’s body, now clearly outlined by the damp fabric, sweat dripping down his neck. Before he can lean in and do something very, very stupid, he forces himself look away.

Baekhyun on the other hand doesn’t shy away, takes a step forward and puts his arms around Chanyeol, pulling him close again. Chanyeol tries his best to continue to dance unfazed by this action, breathing in the male scene of Baekhyun’s sweat, feeling the broadness of the other men’s chest. But the press of Baekhyun’s gaze against his skin is simply too much, quickening his blood and making his pulse a raging storm.

The short man seems to be completely untroubled. His blue eyes are slowly traveling over Chanyeol’s face, until the latter feels exposed. He can feel the boy's breath on his skin, Baekhyun’s mouth so close to his own that he could tip forwards and bite it gently. It's making him crazy. 

As if reading his mind, Baekhyun smirks and withdraws, turning to dance with a girl in a bright red dress. She’s flushed, Chanyeol notices. Giddy, almost.

Chanyeol pushes a sweaty lock of hair off his face and takes a deep, steading breath. There’s something tightening in his chest. Before he can embarrass himself any further, he decides to call it a night.

Baekhyun doesn’t even notice when he leaves the dance floor– he’s way too occupied with pushing his tongue deep down the girl’s throat.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later, Chanyeol wakes up after a long night clubbing.

“Good morning,” Yifan greets him. “How’s my favourite little shithead?” The glee on his face tells Chanyeol that something is seriously wrong. Luhan and Zitao stand on either side of Yifan, almost bursting with excitement.

Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, Chanyeol stands up and tries to orientate. His apartment is clean and just like he remembers it. Sehun, Chanyeol’s roommate and best friend, is gone. Yifan and his crew must have broken in while he had been asleep.

“Where were you last night?” Yifan asks.

Everything shifts so quickly– like lighting a match. Just seconds before he had been calm and relaxed; soundlessly asleep. Now Chanyeol's muscles in his chest are pumping, Yifan's tone of voice reverberating in his eardrums, so rapid and muddled that it's hard to make sense of anything.   _Where were you last night?_ The words become thick and heavy like mud and sit on his chest with a crashing weight.

“Was out drinking," he mumbles, trying to appear calm on the outside. 

“You missed the fun.” Yifan’s voice is totally flat, and Chanyeol feels a fear too deep to shiver out.

Chanyeol knows violence. Cruelty walks holding hands with poverty and rage. Most men in the mafia come from dark places, and joining Junmyeon’s gang had been their only way out of misery. Now, given power, money and whatever their hearts desired, most of them are controlled by their growing lust for more. But the dead look in Yifan’s eyes marks him as more of a psycho than Luhan and Tao.

“What did you do?” Chanyeol asks, sheer terror sweeping through his body.

“Tao?” Yifan lifts his chin at the guy. When Tao opens the bathroom door, Yifan says “Good boy,” as if speaking to a dog, and grabs someone. He hauls a boy in the room and Chanyeol sees it’s Sehun.

His lips are swollen, he’s missing teeth, and there’s crusted blood on his face from where his hair had been pulled so hard his scalp bleed.

He’s wearing a dress.

Chanyeol feels hot and cold tingles on his skin, a rush of blood to his face. He can’t show Yifan weakness. He turns so he doesn’t throw up.

Behind him, Sehun let’s out a whimper. “Chanyeol, please-”

Yifan slaps him across his face. Sehun falls to the ground and doesn’t move.

“The idiot is mine now,” Yifan says. Sehun’s shoulders shake as he starts to cry silently.

The familiar anger rises, and Chanyeol sets his jaw against it. He feels like screaming but he merely twitches. “I’ll kill you. I swear it,” he whispers between clenched teeth.

Yifan smiles. “I don’t know what you’ve done for him, but Byun told me not to touch you, so I won’t. But sooner or later, this will be my district.” He tenses and spits on the ground, trying to convey to Chanyeol his stupidity, his irrelevance.

“Sooner, I think,” Tao smiles, and wiggles his eyebrows at Chanyeol.

“I have big plans for Seoul, and I won’t let you get in my way,” Yifan notes.

“What do you want from me?” Chanyeol asks, utterly confused.

What should he be able to give to someone like Yifan? He’s new in the mafia, barely made his way up and Junmyeon doesn’t even trust him enough to let him do his work on his own and condemned him to his own personal babysitter, Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol usually takes care of small jobs, mostly theft or blackmail and Sehun is a pro-hacker, who has never been in touch with the drug cartel. As far as Chanyeol knows, Yifan mostly cares about that; selling his drugs and fighting against other sellers,- more than often in illegal ways. Why would he take the time to break into Chanyeol’s flat, only to beat up his best friend?

“I’ve noticed you like playing their hero,” Yifan says, taking a few steps towards Chanyeol.

There’s a short silence between them in which Chanyeol’s heart restlessly pounds in his chest.

“You see, I can’t let you run around thinking it’s okay to disrespect me. I can’t take any risks with this. Everyone who doesn’t dare to follow my lead may look at you and start to hope.” Yifan almost smiles.

Chanyeol forces himself to stay quiet, to not move an inch, to not even blink. He hates his own weakness, hates that every breath seems to catch sharply in his throat before spilling out in a hushed, quivering exhalation.

“I know you care about that kid- What’s his name again? Oh Sehun?” Yifan asks and Chanyeol swallows. Composes his face into a blank. Yifan nods, somehow satisfied by this reaction. “By hurting him I will destroy you completely. Pretty simple, don’t you think?”

Yifan doesn’t give Chanyeol the opportunity to reply. He kicks him in the stomach, hard and fast before pushing Chanyeol down to the floor. Not a second later, he hits Chanyeol over the temple with the back of his gun, knocking him out.

 

* * *

 

 

A chill brings him to the surface, the blanket is found lacking and Chanyeol shivers.

It’s at this point that he becomes aware of the pain. His body aches and his head feels dull and relentless. He wraps his arms round himself, trying to block out the encroaching grief. The dark is oppressive, unrelieved by any neighbouring buildings or sodium light. Chanyeol blinks a few times, his mind unfocused and cloudy.

Sehun. His best friend. What must he be doing right now? Sleeping? Crying? Is Yifan there with him? Is he hurting him?

"It's all my fault," Chanyeol mutters into the pillow. 

It's not just guilt that is eating him up from the inside; it's love that had cut him open and had unpacked his organs, stacking them in a row and sewing Sehun's initials into each of them, then tossing them back inside of him. And now everything hurts; a pain so violent, clean and numbing. Loss. I haven't understood what it means, not really, until now. This feeling is loss. This is not the emptiness that I used to feel, or the plain sadness, or the raging anger.

 

Chanyeol feels the familiar prickle of tears and wipes them away. Since Yifan took Sehun with him, their apartment feels cold and so much bigger. He spends his mornings and evenings alone, there’s no one to talk to, no one Chanyeol could share his secrets with. At night, Chanyeol lays on his back for long hours, plotting elaborate revenge that he knows he will never carry out.

Destruction. That’s what it comes down to. Yifan will destroy him in spectacular fashion. He will sate his own cruelty and advance his power. He will do something so awful that Chanyeol will become a story his men will tell.

Chanyeol knows he can’t let that happen. Yifian isn’t stupid. He’s cruel but he has plans. Chanyeol doesn’t. He’s running out of time.

There’s only one person he can go to.

It takes him almost a full week to swallow his pride. On saturday he takes the train downtown. When he steps into the alley, the darkness is as close and cold as the dead’s embrace. Somewhere here must be Baekhyun’s place, but Chanyeol isn’t sure which apartment it is. The guy’s like a phantom.

There’s a shuffling sound behind him and Chanyeol tenses. Slowly, he pulls out his gun. The alley is tight, the buildings sagging so close, Chanyeol can touch both walls at the same time. The walls seem malevolent, stretching hungry fingers toward each other, grabbing for him.

Chanyeol hears the shuffle again and relaxes. A scared rat emerges from under a pile of moldering trash, and sniffs. Chanyeol holds still as the rat waddles forward. It sniffs at his shoes, nudges them with a wet nose, and sensing no danger, moves forward and disappears into the alley.

Something tickles Chanyeol’s neck. He turns and spots a short man not a foot away.

It’s Byun Baekhyun. The short man is dressed in black, tight jeans and an oversized hoodie. He almost looks like a random young boy who means no harm and is on his way home after a long day at school. He leans against the wall, and doesn’t speak. He just stares, his eyes colder than the night.

There’s a long pause in which they both just stare at each other, neither saying a word.

“Why didn’t you kill the rat?” Baekhyun asks eventually. His eyes are so pale that they appear to be a washed out white.

Chanyeol shrugs. “It’s just a rat.”

An eyebrow lifts. Chanyeol thinks he sees a hint of a smile. “Looking down on your peers? A strange little mafia rat you are. So smart, so stupid.”

Chanyeol looks down at his gun - now magically in Baekhyun’s hand - and feels ashamed. He is stupid. What is he even thinking? Before he can retort anything, Baekhyun’s open hand cracks across his face and sends him sprawling into the wall. Chanyeol’s face scraps against rock and he lands heavily.

Chanyeol rolls over and Baekhyun looks down to him. “What are you doing here, idiot?”

A wave of nausea sweeps over Chanyeol. “You should kill me,” he chokes out.

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “You’re one of the best thieves in the city. Wouldn’t that be a waste?”

Chanyeol doesn’t reply. The silver hair hides most of the man’s face but Chanyeol can see how Baekhyun’s eyes shift from amused to dangerous through the tears brimming in his own eyes.

“Is your life so empty, pretty boy?”

It will be if you say no, Chanyeol thinks. He doesn’t know how to get the man on his side. He normally does. He’s good at reading people, knows how to make them believe and trust him. That’s why the mafia accepted him in the first place. But with Baekhyun it appears to be impossible.

After some internal struggle, Chanyeol decides it’s the best to be honest. Baekhyun seems to be one of those who can’t stand lies. Maybe the truth will persuade him.

“I want to be like you,” Chanyeol admits.

“No one wants to be like me.” Baekhyun laughs, and leans down. The edge of his knife touches Chanyeol’s throat.

“Do you like hurting people, pretty boy?” Baekhyun asks.

Chanyeol’s heart jumps, pounding against his chest. “No.”

Baekhyun tears the glove off his hand presses shaking fingers to the skin beneath Chanyeol’s chin. “Ever killed someone?”

“No.”

“Then why are you wasting my time?” Baekhyun’s head leans to one side, his eyes sparkling through the darkness.

“I need your help,” Chanyeol replies. “I heard you’re loyal. That you stick to your word and Junmyeon’s orders.”

“Who told you that?”

“Jongdae. He said that’s what makes you different.”

Baekhyun frowns. He pulls a chewing gum from his jacket and pops it into his mouth. He sheaths his sword, chewing. “Alright, kid. What do you want?”

Chanyeol can’t believe it worked. He wants to jump and dance but then Baekhyun would notice his thrill.

“Wu Yifan.”

Baekhyun’s lips merely twitch. “He beats you?”

“It’s not that.”

Baekhyun looks past Chanyeol, giving him the time to blink away the tears. The moon bathes Seoul in silverlight. Chanyeol follows Baekhyun’s gaze, but there’s no one else in sight.

“I never do others favours, and I won’t protect you.” Baekhyun pauses, and spins the knife from hand to hand. “But you’re right about what you said earlier. Junmyeon told me to fight by your side and so I’ll grant you a chance.”

Hope burst into life. “I’ll do anything,” Chanyeol hurries to say.

“You will have to do it alone. No help, understand? You will have to figure it out by yourself.”

“What is it?” Chanyeol asks.

Baekhyun picks up a dead rat and throws it into Chanyeol’s lap. “You will know.”

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun watches Yifan and his bodyguards entering the graveyard. It’s not as empty as Baekhyun has hoped- bars and game halls huddle not thirty paces away. But there's not much time and he has to take what he can. 

“Hello, asshole,” Baekhyun whispers.

The tall man flinches and turns, but is only greeted by darkness. “What was that?” he asks, looking sick with fright. The guy is stupid, Baekhyun can tell. Stupid, but capable of murdering, and utterly ruthless.

It’s not like that bothers Baekhyun. He couldn’t care less about the man. He isn’t really interested in the mafia’s politics. He likes to do things in his own way, and as long as no one disturbs him, he’s satisfied.

So why is here again? He can’t even stand the way Chanyeol looks at him. As if he, Baekhyun, is his hero, as if he knows what he’s doing, like he will keep Chanyeol safe. He can barely keep himself safe. It’s a fraud really. Chanyeol has been set up, and he can’t even see it.

It’s stupid, and Baekhyun can’t afford stupidity. He should have killed the pretty boy, but now it’s too late. Once a decision is made, Baekhyun like to sticks to it. That's at least what he keeps telling himself while watching the broad back of the man he's about to kill. But deep down, Baekhyun knows the real reason for being here tonight and it has little to do with keeping his word.

 _Pretty boy_ is different than the others.

On the one hand, _pretty boy_ is, as his nickname indicates, pretty. Seldom do people who Baekhyun is forced to work with have a face that is nice to look at. Really, most of them are ugly, cruel men, with sturdy faces and scars all over their bodies. Some of them stink, lack most of their teeth, or are simply not Baekhyun’s type.

But _pretty boy_ \- he's a completely different story. Chanyeol has soft features. Yes, he’s lanky and way too tall, but his height and those long legs are making up for the lack in body control and balance. Not to mention that Baekhyun likes boys like that, those who carry a bit of youth with them, who don’t remind him of the ever so apparent death.

To sum up, on a superficial point of view Chanyeol simply looks good. He has perfectly white teeth, a dimply smile and two, big round eyes. His lips are pouty and well filled, and even his big ears make him look cute, rather than foolish. But it’s not like Baekhyun hasn’t seen a good looking guy before. He’s not a helpless teenager, willing to jump anything that has a pretty butt.

So if not his looks, what is then so unique about Chanyeol?

Baekhyun watches every man under Junmyeon, not to sneak on them but to know exactly who is doing what. Knowledge is power, Baekhyun knows that. And Baekhyun is watching Chanyeol like he’s watching any guy in the mafia. And there's something about him that has caught his attention. 

Something; a feeling, or energy, so raw that Baekhyun can almost taste it, smell it, touch it. It's in the boy's blood, fills him up, and Baekhyun wonders how it must feel to not be hollow. It's even in the way the boy fights, when he stands straight even when his face is abraded, his mouth and nose dripping blood. There’s a fire in Chanyeol’s eyes which never disappears, no matter how beat up he is. And still, he’s a picture of naked innocence. It stirs something in Baekhyun that he has thought long dead.

Ending Yifan’s life will be easy, really. His knife is in his hand and all Baekhyun has to do is to stick it in him. Anywhere in the stomach will work. But Baekhyun likes to play. He will enjoy this.

The slight brush of cloth hitting the ground behind him makes Yifan spin and lash out. But there’s nothing there. Yifan turns once more, but something catches his right hand, then his left. Yifan screams as he feels his joints on the verge of dislocating.

Baekhyun lets go off him and Yifan falls to the ground. Baekhyun unleashes a storm of blows, fast and hard. The tall man tries to block him where he can, stumbling back to his feet. He’s stupid but not a bad fighter.

Baekhyun goes for a full strike on Yifan’s chin, then stops. Yifan lashes up fast enough that he would have been able to block the strike, but with no contact where he has expected it, Yifan brings the block too far and can’t bring his hand back in time before Baekhyun kicks his fist at his nose. Shortly after, Baekhyun brings his knife down faster than Yifan can react and stabs for the stomach.

Skin and flesh. Then blood in a fountain.

 

* * *

 

After he’s done with killing both of the bodyguards, Baekhyun steals Yifan’s key and drives downtown. Instead of the expected money, he finds a half-dead boy in Yifan’s apartment. It’s the first time Baekhyun doesn’t know what to do. Now, he can’t help but feel a certain detached professional rage. It’s sloppy, cruel work. There are wounds on the bleeding boy which make it obvious that Yifan wanted the boy to live and that with hideous scars that would forever shame him.

Under normal circumstances he would have killed the boy. His life is worth nothing. Ending it would be only kind. But for some reason Baekhyun doesn't. He could- for sure. But not tonight. Junmyeon says the kid is too kind. Maybe from this he will learn to act first, and fast, kill anyone who dares to threaten him and his friends. Maybe. And there’s another quiet thought in the back of Baekhyun’s mind. He can’t allow Chanyeol to destroy himself over the death of this boy. He won’t allow it.

Baekhyun cleans the boy up as good as he can. He will live, that's for sure. Even naked, starving, and injured, the body has ways of generating. “Life is empty,” he tells the unconscious boy. “It’s worthless, meaningless.” He turns the boy around, heaves him up and carries him to the front door of the apartment.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dear readers, don't worry I'm not giving this story up! I know this chapter is pretty short and maybe not what you have expected.. and I'm sorry if that's the case. I will try to update more regularly ..but I cannot promise anything as of now.
> 
> thank you all for your nice messages on the first chapter, it's those which motivate me to keep writing.

Chanyeol is on his way home from a night out. Blissful cool. But this night is a circle. A shadow. Almost a month has passed since Sehun's abduction. He's with Kris, doing who knows what. Sleeping only moves Chanyeol from one nightmare to another. Day brings little relief, and only slowly do the memories fade. So instead of staying home and feeling miserable, he goes out, drinks, parties and feels miserable.

When he comes around a corner, Baekhyun is sitting on the low fence of the modern glass building Chanyeol calls his home. He’s alone, waiting for him, spinning a short knife on its point. Spots of rust interplay with the winking of the waning moon on bright steel as it spins.

In this unguarded moment, Baekhyun’s face is almost soft, and for one moment he looks like a child. Chanyeol shuffles forward, confused and frightened by that glimpse of humanity on the man’s face. It’s as if he has seen too much.

When Baekhyun notices him, he stands up, the familiar grin on his lips, the knife pointing at Chanyeol’s throat.

“You kept me waiting,” he says. The night’s cold has left Baekhyun’s cheeks red, making him look even younger.

Chanyeol takes a few steps back, his eyes watching the blade carefully. Baekhyun looks up at him, smirking. “What? Not happy to see me?” he asks, voice tinged with sarcasm.

Chanyeol looks down at him, a faint light of suspicion blooming in his eyes. _Can I trust you?_

“Depends.”

“On what?” Baekhyun’s voice is sharp.

“Will you kill me?”

For a moment, Baekhyun just stares at him. Then, his fist smashes into Chanyeol’s head. He’s strong, way stronger than Chanyeol has expected from a guy his size. Chanyeol loses balance and stumbles to the ground.

“This all you got?” Baekhyun sneers down at Chanyeol, who slowly climbs back to his feet.

He rubs his head. Fuck, that hurt.

“Attack,” Baekhyun commands and Chanyeol does, wildly. But Baekhyun deflects all his blows or steps to one side so that Chanyeol falls over from the force of his own swings.

“If you fight like this you won’t need me to kill you,” Baekhyun snickers. “You’ll be dead in the matter of a month.” He parries quickly and Chanyeol’s blade skitters across the floor.

“Grab that,” Baekhyun orders.

They fight for some time, and all the while, Baekhyun speaks. He tells Chanyeol not to hesitate, that dead is dead and that he shouldn’t play with his skills. It frustrates Chanyeol really, how he can’t win and has to obey to Baekhyun’s commands.

Eventually they stop.

Chanyeol’s chest is heaving and the sweat is running down his back. Baekhyun on the other hand seems to be unfaced by their fight. His face is a mask, intense, but not furious. He grabs Chanyeol’s shirt and lifts him off the ground.

“Your friend,” he says. “Dumped him in your apartment. He’s in bad shape but he’ll live.”

Chanyeol tries to keep his face blank, refusing to show how grateful he is. Sehun is alive and safe. “Thank you,” he chokes out and really means it.

Baekhyun’s face doesn’t even twitch. Chanyeol can’t tell if the short man has even heard him. Baekhyun lets go off his shirt and turns, leaving Chanyeol to lay on the ground, as if he couldn’t care less about his reaction.

Without giving Baekhyun another thought, Chanyeol hurries onto his feet and runs towards the building.

 

* * *

 

Sehun is in Chanyeol’s apartment, just like Baekhyun said earlier. He has his back to Chanyeol, and for a moment, Chanyeol pauses, afraid to get Sehun’s attention. Then his best friend turns.

A cut loops from the corner of Sehun’s right eye to the corner of his mouth. It has been stitched, but the resulting scar will stay forever. One of his eyes is still swollen, but that’s it. Chanyeol feels like a huge weight is lifted off his shoulders.

His best friend is alive and that’s all that matters. Anything else Chanyeol can fix, he’s sure of it. As he makes a few steps forward, unsure of what to do next, Chanyeol notices Sehun’s eyes, which are full of sudden hope, rimmed with tears. Without another thought he crosses the room and pulls Sehun close, hugging him tightly.

The smooth skin of Sehun’s cheeks brushes against his own. Tentatively, Sehun lifts his hands from his sides and hugs him back. Chanyeol tastes salt on his lips. The smell of blood and something else fills his nostrils and he feels how Sehun starts to sob in his embrace.

It’s a miracle Sehun’s still alive. A miracle and Baekhyun. Suddenly, Chanyeol’s chest convulses uncontrollably, and he’s crying too. He squeezes his best friend harder, and for a moment everything is reduced to his single hug, reunion, joy.

Time passes. Chanyeol feels like he has been squeezed dry. He isn’t sure how long he has held Sehun, but he knows it’s too long. He takes a step back and takes a deep breath.

“Yifan is dead, Sehun.”

His best friends eyes are still red and shiny, but he clearly relaxes. “We’re safe?” he asks.

Chanyeol nods. He’s on the edge of tears again.

“Thank you,” Sehun chokes out and touches his arm. He laughs, not to make fun of him, but a laugh of such joy and relief it pains Chanyeol. Then his laughter passes and a look of sorrow takes its place.

“I’m so sorry, Chanyeol. I don’t even want to imagine what you had to do to save me from this bastard. I don’t even know what to think. I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath and pushes his tears away. “Shut up, dude. You would have done the same.”

 

* * *

 

After that, things go back to normal. Sehun slowly becomes his own self. He’s a little bit more quiet and reserved now but overall doing okay. All in all, Chanyeol is happy. Now that Yifan is out of the picture things are better.

Chanyeol eventually adapts to having a partner. Baekhyun seemed heartless at first but he’s really not that bad of a catch. Most of the time he’s quiet and doesn’t annoy Chanyeol. He finishes his job quickly, knows how to kill fast and doesn’t say a word when Chanyeol has to throw up after they’re done with business

They seem to work well together too. Sometimes Chanyeol thinks he sees Baekhyun’s lips twitch upwards when he tells a joke or says something ridiculous. It’s almost as if they’re friends. Well, almost. None of them bring up Yifan or Sehun and it’s as if nothing has ever happened. Their relationship remains professional, cold.

 

* * *

 

Sighing, Baekhyun swirls the wine in the glass, but he doesn’t drink it. For some reason he’s unable to relax today. Too many thoughts are haunting his mind. Pretty boy is intriguing. He’s not like the others in the mafia who try their best to never meet ways with him. Maybe the boy is fearless, or plain stupid, Baekhyun isn’t sure. For some unknown reason Chanyeol never seems to be afraid of him. Probably because he’s not able to understand Baekhyun enough to fear him. Pretty boy seems to just glide along on the surface of life.

“Nam Taehyun is dead,” Kim Minseok sighs loudly while taking a seat next to Baekhyun. He looks tired and worn out like he has a ruff night behind him.

“How come?” Baekhyun asks.

“Junmyeon ordered to kill him a few hours ago.”

Baekhyun lifts a brow. _Interesting._

“He was a spy,” Minseok explains. “Now that he’s dead, his things have been searched, and unfortunately, there’s not a clear answer for who he was working with.”

Baekhyun nods. Rotten apples are so common these days.

“But there’s not really anything to worry about. We don’t think Nam was able to cultivate any loyalty among the men.”

Baekhyun nods again. “Scum doesn’t care much where their meals come from,” he notes.

It’s different for him and most of the men with more power. Kim Junmyeon isn’t their leader for no reason. If it wasn’t for him, Baekhyun would probably live in the slums. There are few men Baekhyun is willing to subject to. Kim Junmyeon is one of them. He brings together talented, but cruel people, and lots of them are fairly difficult to handle and egotistical. He puts them together and it works.

“What’s with that Chanyeol boy?” Minseok asks.

Baekhyun shrugs, uninterested. “What should be with him?”

“You lied for him, don’t even deny it,” Minseok grunts. “I’ve never seen you lie for anyone. I wonder if you care for that boy.”

“Aren’t there more important things to worry about?” Again that edge comes into his voice.

Minseok shrugs. “Never thought that it’s possible, you know. For you to care about someone who’s not yourself.”

As usual, Baekhyun finds himself more bored than offended. “Life is empty, Minseok. Love is a failure. Don’t mistake me for someone I’m not.”

“Tell me, Baekhyun,” Minseok says and leans forward. “Would you mind if he dies?”

Baekhyun looks up. His possible responses hang in the air before him. Comparing them all, he feels like a bird watching from the air. He wants to eat individual parts of the words, but he knows that would be wrong. That some holistic combination is required. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He looks away instead.  

* * *

 

Someone slaps Chanyeol. Not gently.

“Wake up, kid.”

Chanyeol fights his way out of a nightmare and sees the face of Byun Baekhyun, a foot away, about to slap him again.

“What the-” he stops. “Did you break into my flat?”

Baekhyun smirks. “Good to see you remember me, pretty boy.”

Chanyeol’s heart starts pounding. He has been desperate to see Baekhyun for days, but now that the man is here, he’s angry.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” Baekhyun chuckles and rolls his pale blue eyes. “It’s time to kill.”

Great. Another job so early in the morning. Chanyeol curses under his breath and stands up slowly. He knows Baekhyun is in a hurry, and wasting the man’s time is oddly satisfying.

“What is it?” he grumbles as he puts on some dark clothes.

“A dealer. Should be easy to finish, he’s probably not armed. But he’s well-liked.” Baekhyun smiles. A pretty smile, Chanyeol notes. “A little social butterfly.”

Chanyeol pretends he doesn’t catch Baekhyun staring at his butt as he fastens his shoes. “What did he do?”

Baekhyun shrugs and spares him a glance, saying, “Does it matter? He just has to die. Let’s go and finish the job.”

A knife appears in Baekhyun’s hand, but his eyes aren’t violent. He’s thinking. He flips his knife from hand to hand.

“No,” Chanyeol mutters and puts on his coat. “It doesn’t. What’s his name?”

Baekhyun dismisses it with an effeminate wave of his hand. “Don’t trouble your little mind with questions, pretty boy.”

 

* * *

 

With the strong makeup, Baekhyun looks totally different and older by years. Sexy, Chanyeol thinks, as he follows the short man through the crowd of teenagers. Most of them are victims of the street, skinny and hopeless druggies without a home and money.

The abandoned railway station which is used by drug dealers and prostitutes is almost empty today. They find their target quickly. The man is sitting on the dirty ground, rolling a cig. Baekhyun is a better actor than Chanyeol. He only has to smile and the man jumps up and tells them to follow him into a quiet corner. It’s almost too easy.

As soon as they’re alone, Baekhyun gets to work. He slashes the man’s throat in the matter of seconds, so fast that Chanyeol doesn’t even see it coming.

There’s a sound behind them. “Soo Hyun?”, says a girl before coming around the corner. She stops and sees the dying man on the ground. She’s a young girl wearing a plain outfit - sneakers and a hoodie - and she doesn’t look like a prostitute nor like a druggie to Chanyeol. Wide hips, brown eyes and mouth open in a little O, with wild red hair.

Baekhyun reacts in an instant. He yanks the girl forward, sweeps a foot in, and she flips over onto the ground. The girl is beneath Baekhyun now, face down on the dirty ground. Without hesitating, Baekhyun slides his knife between her ribs.

She has done nothing. She’s innocent.

Pure anger fills Chanyeol’s lungs. He grabs Baekhyun by the collar and presses him against the wall. He expects a glare, but Baekhyun’s face is calm, his eyes containing a dim light.

Both don’t say a word.

Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun’s chest heaving, his breath rattling in and out. His feet aren’t touching the ground. It must be humiliating, but Chanyeol knows that if Baekhyun would want to, he could kill him in an instant. The only reason why the short man is pressed against the wall right now is because Baekhyun lets it happen.

“She’s coleteral damage, kid.”

Chanyeol’s heart squeezes deep in his chest. There must have been another way. “We could have told her to run!”

“To tell no one?” Baekhyun laughs and throws his head back. “Would she do it? No, of course not. She would run to the nearest police office. You’re in the mafia, idiot.”

Chanyeol purses his lips, seeing the distance in Baekhyun’s eyes. His fingers curl inwards. His teeth clench.

“If you want to live you do what’s needed,” the short man sneers. He’s close enough that Chanyeol could kiss him. A puff of warm breath brushes over Chanyeol’s cheek as he speaks. “It’s less professional but sometimes unavoidable. She saw your face, she saw the knife in my hand, and me holding the dying scum by his hair.”

Chanyeol is silent. The anger has suddenly vanished and now leaves him empty, a hollow feeling taking its place. He let’s go of Baekhyun’s collar but doesn’t take a step back. They’re so close that their legs are touching.

“Meaning is a delusion, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says almost gently, but there’s a forced calmness in his voice. His silver bangs are falling over his forehead, and Chanyeol leans a bit down to hear him better. He can smell blood and a sweet scent,- strawberry.

“There’s no higher purpose. No right or wrong,” Baekhyun continues. “There’s nothing beyond this. Life is empty, meaningless. When you take a life, you take nothing of value. There’s no justice.”

Chanyeol frowns. “That’s bullshit.”

“I don’t demand from you to like reality, only to be strong enough to face it. Do you know how many I’ve killed?”

Chanyeol shakes his head.

“Me neither. I don’t count.” Baekhyun looks serious. “Too many, and in the end it doesn’t matter. Life has no worth, no meaning. Even killing means nothing.”

Baekhyun takes Chanyeol’s hands. “On your knees,” he demands.

Chanyeol obeys, steps back and kneels at the pool of blood seeping from the girl’s dead body.

“This is the only thing that’s real,” Baekhyun says, putting Chanyeol’s hands in the blood. It’s still warm. “There’s no one you have to justify to. Nothing to fear.”

Chanyeol thinks Baekhyun is crazy. A total psycho. But he doesn’t scoot back. He stares into the deep red and suddenly feels lighter than before.

For some reason he’s relieved.

 

* * *

 

As they are on their way to their hiding place in the city, one man jumps into the alley ahead of them and whistles, caressing a long, thin blade.

“Look who we’ve got here,” he says, his pale blue eyes intent, ready. He looks familiar. “The infamous Byun Baekhyun.”

“I don’t have time for this. Move,” Baekhyun spits out.

“You shouldn’t-”

Baekhyun darts forward, his left hand twisting the man’s hand, snatching the knife, and his body spinning in. The man’s elbow cracks against the closest wall, and the fight is over.

“I said I don’t have time for this,“ Baekhyun mutters. He let’s go of the man and throws back his hood. His features are sharp, and his silver hair falls slightly over his puffy cheeks.

“Never get into my way again, you hear me?” he leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips.

Chanyeol sees fear and awe in the other man’s eyes. The guy nods quickly and Baekhyun throws the blade into a gutter clotted with sewage.

“Get lost,” Baekhyun commands before he turns and walks into a side street. Chanyeol watches him walk away, disappearing into the early morning mist.

He doesn’t really know what Byun Baekhyun is to him; a partner, a rival or a stranger. The boy is everything that Chanyeol isn’t. He is powerful, confident, and most importantly, fearless. He’s like a god. He has fought tons of strong men, and won. Not even once has Chanyeol seen the man scared.

Someday, Chanyeol swears. He doesn’t even dare to think the whole sentence.

Someday.

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol tells himself that there’s no particular reason why he’s going to watch the fight tonight. It’s more of a battle than a fight to be exact. Some of the strongest and most powerful men in Seoul come together, eat, drink and beat eachother up. Not always in that order.

Chanyeol is usually not interested in such gatherings. The violence and gore, the men who love murder and cruelty for its own sake. Chanyeol despises it.

It’s noon before he arrives at the skyscraper. The party takes place on the highest floors. The corridors are lined with disturbing sculptures and paintings. Chanyeol takes the elevator upstairs and tries to calm himself. Not knowing most of the guest and what to expect of the evening makes him nervous but he plays it cool. He walks in a cocky glide.

The room looks like it has seen a lot of death. There are gutters around at the base of each wall so blood can be easily washed away. Against the plain background, the rich and powerful men are a riot of color.

Chanyeol is glad when he sees that he’s standing far away from Yixing. The man has a huge reach and is strong. He’s probably the best fighter Chanyeol has ever seen. Well, besides Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol feels a bit pathetic as he’s watching Yixing. The man looks amazing, dressed all in leather and silks, long dark hair combed and gleaming, grinning with the arrogance of a man superior to those around him. He’s not just extremely handsome, but also admired, respected, even held in awe here.

Chanyeol’s jaw clenches at that thought. The other men in the room aren’t better than Yixing though. They are dressed like ordinary men, pretending to be friends with men they despised, men they would betray for nothing more than money.

The door opposite of Chanyeol opens and a short man steps in. Baekhyun is noticed immediately and a silence spreads through the men joking too loudly, stretching and checking their knives. He’s dressed in fine, black silk and his silver hair curls in carefree waves which make Chanyeol want to reach out and feel them. He wonders what it be like to bury his face in them. Would he smell strawberry?

Tall, handsome Yixing, son of a leading mafia family, steps forward and smiles. It’s obvious what he wants. The crowd starts to whisper as the two men come together, but neither of them pays them any attention.

“Byun,” Yixing spits out. “I have waited for you long enough.”

Baekhyun lifts a brow. “Is that so?” There’s a hint of anger in his voice, barely noticeable.

“I wanted to fight a rat like you for a long time,” Yixing says. “You’re not a man of his word, you’re barely even a human being. You betrayed every part of your better nature and for what? Money.” Yixing spits onto the ground.

Money? What does Yixing now about Money? Chanyeol feels hot rage wash through his blood. This cocky bastard knows nothing about the real world and even less about Baekhyun.

Yixing draws his knife, but Baekhyun is faster. He smacks the hilt out of Yixing’s fingers and twists him to the side. He twines his right foot around the taller man’s legs and carries them both to the ground.

Chanyeol watches tensely how Baekhyun lands on top of Yixing, grabbing each of the man’s arms and yanking them up behind his back. The fight is breathtaking. Baekhyun’s movements are fast, slick and controlled. He grabs a fistful of Yixing’s long hair and slams his face into the ground, again and again, until blood is covering the man’s whole face.

Baekhyun stands up, and draws his knife. Everyone is silent. He doesn’t move. Yixing is laying beneath him, and it’s clear who won the fight. It’s humiliating, infuriating.

Chanyeol smiles. It’s a big, fat smile. He can taste the victory on his tongue. Yixing tries to get up and is clearly struggling to stand, his face bleeding and his eyes unfocused.

“Don’t waste my time like this again,” Baekhyun says, and kicks the man in the belly. Yixing falls forward, on his knees and spits blood.

Baekhyun smirks and turns, letting a beat up Yixing to himself.

Chanyeol watches how some men hurry to help Yixing up and carry him outside but hardly anyone else pays attention to that. Some guests take their seats and start to eat, others dance or pick up their previous conversations.

It takes Chanyeol a while to find Baekhyun in the crowd and when he does, he almost chokes on his drink. The man sits on the main table, relaxed and laid back like Chanyeol would have expected him to be.

Baekhyun crosses his legs, and the motion captures Chanyeol’s attention- no frills, no decorations, just clean lines and curves. Chanyeol stares for five seconds, double checks that no one is noticing his stare, and then stares again.

Baekhyun flicks his eyes up suddenly and catches Chanyeol’s stare, pinning him to the wall behind him with his eyes. Guilt flashes across Chanyeol’s features and before he can cover it with boldness or glance away, Baekhyun stands and walks towards him.

“Park.” A smirk starts to stretch over Baekhyun’s face. “Came to ogle at me?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Chanyeol’s cheeks turn hot. “Yikes. You wish.”

A harsh crack sounds from the center of the room, and Chanyeol catches a glimpse of something being thrown in the air. As everyone else turns toward it, Baekhyun turns away. He grabs Chanyeol by the shoulder and forces him to the ground.

The sparkle bomb explodes with a small concussion and an enormous flash of white light. As the crowd cries out, blinded, Chanyeol notices how a man standing close is drawing his gun. He recognizes him as Hwang Minhyun, a well-known man with thirty kills to his name.

Hwang Minhyun shoots with amazing speed. People are screaming, blinded. Another man who must have been hiding in the crowd appears and starts to attack people.

People are charging toward the exit, trampling their neighbors. Several of the most respected and feared mafia members, still blinded and panicked, are shooting into the crowd. One of the bodyguards tries to tackle his master to get him out of danger. Dazed, the master misinterprets the move, draws his knife and tries to stab him.

Chanyeol tries to get up, stumbles a bit and turns to find the attacker’s apprentice. The man who just had fought was now lying on the ground, dead. Not five feet away stands Baekhyun.

Hwang Minhyun is already fleeing, not sparing a moment of anguish for his dead apprentice. Baekhyun draws his gun and manages to hit Hwang Minhyun’s back. The man pitches out of view, but Chanyeol has no doubt he’s dead.

Ducking, trying his best not to be seen by someone he knows, Chanyeol joins the streams of panicked man flooding out of the room. This attack is not a good sign. It means the Mafia’s lead is weakening. Hwang Minhyun is dead, but he was just one of many traitors. Killing him didn’t solve the problem.

They had been close to successfully killing most of the strongest members of the mafia. They could have done it. Their timing had been so good. One second different and they would have pulled it off with only the two of them.

Hwang Minhyun’s boss - whoever that is - would have been the new leader. This thought gives Chanyeol the chills.

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol wakes two hours before dawn and wonders what in the hell he has to do to finally have a good night's rest. Baekhyun’s words keep going through his head. “Don’t waste my time like this again.” Yixing, a waste of time? Chanyeol snores. Baekhyun must really look down on him if he considers a strong, respectable man like Yixing a waste of time. Chanyeol probably means nothing to him.

Not that Chanyeol cares. He turns to side, and lets out a sigh.

With what Baekhyun makes for each kill and the frequency with which he takes jobs, the man must be really wealthy. Probably obscenely so. Not that Chanyeol cares. In fact, he doesn’t really care about money in general. He doesn’t spend money on himself, aside from the binges on alcohol.

He grumbles silently, remembering a time in which he didn’t lose sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about some meaningless man.

A man with really pretty hands that is. They are so slender, so thin, almost feminine. Baekhyun probably gets his nails done professionally. That thought almost makes Chanyeol laugh out loud. He presses his face into his pillow to stay quiet so he doesn’t wake Sehun.

He wonders if Baekhyun is gay. He’s pretty enough. Actually, Chanyeol doesn’t really know what qualifies someone to be gay. He has never met a gay man before and being into men isn’t something that you talk about in the mafia. Not even in the brothels. People just act as if they don’t know anything about the men who pay other men whores to fuck them.

Chanyeol turns once again. Why is he even thinking about this? Who cares if Byun Baekhyun is gay or not. For all he knows, he probably jerks off to his own reflection in the mirror.

 

* * *

 

A week later, Baekhyun makes the decision to train him. He says as long as Chanyeol is his partner he can’t go out and embarrass himself. It would fall back on Baekhyun’s name. Chanyeol thinks it's unnecessary but since it’s a way to prove himself, he doesn’t object.

Before getting trained by Baekhyun, Chanyeol fought fairly, his punches always coming in above the belt. Textbook attacks. Now things are different. There’s nothing fair about the fights with Baekhyun.

“Faster!” the short man screams now, blocking Chanyeol’s practice knife and jumping to the side.

“I’m trying!” Chanyeol complains and gasps a few breaths.

“Then try again!”

Chanyeol tries to grab Baekhyun’s hand and twist but the boy slips aside.  _Great. Fuck this._

Baekhyun’s next punch knocks the wind out of him. He staggers back as the short boy comes in, his weight on his toes, pushing Chanyeol back against the wall. Chest pressed against chest, hips to hips, Chanyeol can feel the other man’s heartbeat. For a moment they still. A shiver of excitement blooms in his stomach, and lower, when their eyes meet.

For a moment Chanyeol thinks Baekhyun is going to kiss him. Then Baekhyun punches him, twice. Once in the mouth, hard enough to draw blood and once in his stomach.

Rage sweeps over him. Chanyeol wants to win this, just once. He blocks Baekhyun’s punch, ducks beneath it, and makes three quick punches on Baekhyun’s ribs. The boy doesn’t even flinch, and only tries to hit him again. Chanyeol drops beneath the blow and flicks a foot into the man’s pelvis. Only that his foot isn’t where it should be. Chanyeol falls. Baekhyun’s fist catches him across the face and he crashes to the ground.

They fight in the practice room of Junmyeon’s newest villa, using every uneven edge of the ground against each other. They sweat and fight, every muscle of their arms and legs sore and moving precisely to its task. While Chanyeol can’t hide any bit of his emotions and regularly let’s out long, eloquent curses, in which he calls Baekhyun bastard and compares his face with ugly body parts, Baekhyun never shows his anger in his fighting.

Only after they’re done, when they’re lying on the ground, usually bleeding and out of breath, he allows some of his fury to be expressed.

“Fuck! You were good today,” Baekhyun says, while unbuttoning his shirt. It sticks to his chest like glue.

“You’re lying.” Chanyeol closes his eyes for a second, his head sinking back on the floor. The fight had been exhausting. Baekhyun always attacks full speed. There are never tricks, just pure speed. Kicks follow kicks, punches are diverted, blows absorbed against arms, legs and hips.

Baekhyun is simply better than him. Chanyeol will never be able to win. No matter how fast he is, none of his punches are able to hurt Baekhyun. All of them end up being brushed aside or only connect with muscles tensed for the impact.

“Nah, I’m not,” Baekhyun retorts and stands up. “You are getting better.” It sounds like he’s proud.

Chanyeol’s heart skips a beat. He forces himself back to his feet and rolls his eyes. “Do you see me as a worthy partner now, or what?”

“Your reaction speed is good, your instincts too. You hide and disguise well.”

“Yeah, but doing those things _well i_ s shit,” Chanyeol bites back, refusing to meet Baekhyun’s gaze. His cheeks suddenly feel hot.

That thing with his cheeks happens a lot lately. It’s kind of bothersome really. Baekhyun’s now exposed chest isn’t helping either. He’s slim, but toned and those abs are doing weird things to Chanyeol’s belly and lower region.

Baekhyun turns but stops at the door of the training room. “I’m gonna be gone for a while.”

Chanyeol lifts his head in surprise. "I’m not coming with you?”

He's confused. Being Baekhyun’s partner more and more becomes something that he enjoys. He’s starting to think that Baekhyun likes him, cares about him. He believes that sometimes Baekhyun is even proud of him. Why would Baekhyun not let him accompany him? They’re always handling jobs together these days.

“You would get in the way.”

The casual way Baekhyun says it hurts almost as much as the fact that it’s true.

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun sits on the balcony of the most prestigious hotel of Seoul. He wears his silver hair lightly oiled, a wavy lock sometimes dropping into his blue eyes. In front of him sits Kim Taeyeon, probably the only respected woman in the business who Baekhyun has met so far. She’s one of the mafia’s rising stars. Not only is she extremely beautiful but also intelligent, and everything she touches seems to turn to gold.

Baekhyun distrusts her.

“You would do well in one of my brothels," she says, obviously throwing that out just to see how Baekhyun would take it. “The men would adore you.”

Baekhyun doesn’t even flinch. His face remains a motionless facade.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies.

She moves on to commenting on her gardens and animals as the servant brings the wine. Not a particularly interesting choice, but Baekhyun hasn’t expected more.

“So you’re trying to take over the Seoul district, now that Wu Yifan is dead?” he asks abruptly.

“Yes,” she replies and lets it sit. It’s clear to Baekhyun that she isn’t going to make this easy.

“How come?” he asks.

Taeyeon shrugs. “Why not? I’ve been working with Kim Junmyeon for almost ten years. I know the job better than anyone.”

“For Junmyeon,” Baekhyun notes and takes a sip of his wine. “You think you’re better than him?”

Her eyes flash is anger but she says nothing. A bad temper, then. She doesn’t like to be corrected.

“You think I don’t?” she asks and leans forward, exposing her breasts fully. Baekhyun remains unfaced. He leans his head to the side and thinks.

“You have good connections. A bunch of spies,” he eventually says. “But I’m not sure if you’re made for the job.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Spies?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have time for this. “If you’re asking for my vote, you’d do well to not lie to me.” He motions to the servant, who takes his plate and replaces it with a freshly made cheesecake.

“I’m not asking,” Taeyeon says.

Baekhyun begins to eat his cake, and looks at the sky, watches as the sun slowly sinks over the great iron gate of the Hotel. If she takes that comment back he will let her live.

“I don’t know why you have such a big influence but I need your vote, and I’ll have it,” she adds.

The cake that a moment ago has tasted so delightful and sweet, suddenly tastes like a mouthful of sand. She knows something, Baekhyun thinks. And whatever it is, it’s enough to make her feel safe enough to threaten him.

Baekhyun stands up abruptly. He’s going to kill her later. Now is not the time to lose his temper.

“Sit,” Taeyeon commands. Baekhyun doesn’t move. There’s something she’s hiding and he wants to know what it is. It’s probably a waste of time but he can’t risk it. He sits down again. That seems to please her.

“Do you know Huang Zitao?” she asks.

His face remains passive. “One of Yifan’s men?” he asks.

“Yes.” She nods. “After Yifan was killed he took over the drug cartel. He didn’t make any friends when he was Yifan’s right hand. He nearly has got himself killed a dozen times since Yifan is dead. Apparently he's blaming Park Chanyeol for his misery.”

Baekhyun’s chest is tight. “Who?” he asks, forcing himself to stay calm. Maybe this means nothing.

Taeyeon doesn’t seem to buy it. Now it's her who looks annoyed. “Zitao thinks the boy killed Yifan. In his mind, if Chanyeol hadn’t killed Yifan, no one would have dared to come after him.”

Baekhyun’s expression clears. Taeyeon is like a wild animal, if he’s not careful she’s going to sense his fear. “Why do you tell me this?” he asks.

“He will work very closely with Kim Junmyeon within the year. There’s a spot open as one of Junmyeon’s right hands. From a position of that kind of power he’ll find Chanyeol quickly,” Taeyeon explains.

She pauses to see if this information has any impact on him. A breath that sounds like a growl grinds out of his throat. Taeyeon smiles.

“He’s a vengeful man, you see. Cruel,” she adds. “If the boy is as important to you as I think he is, you should give me your vote.”

Baekhyun snorts. “So that’s why you invited me here? So you could tell me that some druggie is after a lousy murderer?”

Taeyeon goes quiet. She studies Baekhyun intently. “Do as you please,” she eventually says and gestures him to leave.

Baekhyun stands up but stays, trying to makes sense of the situation. His palms are sweaty. His fingers twitch. He’s concerned. Concerned about this helpless little boy. It’s sickening.

“Fine,” he mutters eventually. “You’ve got my vote.”

Then, he turns abruptly and leaves.

 


	3. III

One might assume the Mafia has no society, but they’d been wrong. There are groups here, too. They’re split into the animals and the monsters, the weak and the strong. Yifan had led the animals before he died, who rank mostly according to their crimes: thieves, murderers then slavers. The most powerful monsters in Seoul are Tao, a dark-haired chinese whose known for cutting out the tongue out of his victims; Luhan, a pale man covered in tattoos who can speak but never does; and Yixing, a guy with massive shoulders and teeth filed to sharp points. The monsters survive only through the others’ fear of them, and their willingness to fight.

Now that Yifan is dead, several attacks have been happening. Members are getting stabbed in the back by their most trusted business partners; friends and rumors are spreading– of traitors and spies being everywhere, even among the most loyal men.

Now, as they all fear for what to come, the tenuous society is crumbling. Some are so afraid, they flee to safe hideouts– deep underground, but only people well-connected in the Mafia can get into those. And Chanyeol has no friends beside Sehun, no family, no home. Among the animals, he’s a wolf without a pack. Among the monsters, he’s a dog without his steel tooth.

It frightens him to think of a world without Junmyeon as their leader. He had tried to see the monsters as ordinary men. Men corrupted and tainted and reviled and evil, but men. He tried to see in them something good, but looking into the depths of their souls, he sees only animals and monsters.

Chanyeol prefers the animals, those which are strictly small time: mugging, picking pockets, street prostitution, and gambling. Some brothels and gambling dens actually stay in business without being affiliated with the mafia. It’s almost nice to hang out with this streetfolk.

“Who exactly are we looking for again?” he asks Baekhyun, rubbing his head.

“Kim Jongin. He lives around here and works in a shop attached to the house.”

“You know him?” Chanyeol asks.

Baekhyun shrugs. “I’ve worked with him before. He’s quite efficient.”

As they approach, a tanned man steps out of the house, putting on a bright smile. “Morning,” he says and his eyes immediately go to Baekhyun. A quick glance at his face and then a too-appreciative weighing of Baekhyun’s assets. It isn’t the quick up-and-down that Chanyeol has expected. He wouldn’t mind that. But this isn’t just a look, it’s a linger.

“Nice to meet you,” the man says, sticking his hand out to Chanyeol. He looks at Chanyeol, weighing, evaluating. Predictably enough, he tries to crush Chanyeol’s hand.

Without a whisper of tension in his face or his forearm, Chanyeol clamps down on the hand in his grip and after a moment, he backs off and merely watches the man, rough hand to rough hand, muscle to muscle, and eye to eye.

“Pretty boy, behave!” Baekhyun mutters through clenched teeth as if he’s making a spectacle of himself. But Chanyeol doesn’t break eye contact. There’s something being settled here, and if it’s primal, petty and stupid, it’s still important.

Baekhyun doesn’t like being ignored. “I suppose next you’ll compare the size of your dicks,” he scoffs.

“Good idea,” Chanyeol says as the man finally releases his hand. “What do you say?” he asks, loosening his belt.

Mercifully, the man laughs. The rest of them follow, but Chanyeol still doesn’t like him and the guy still doesn’t like him, either. Chanyeol can tell.

“Well, nice to meet you,” the man says again. “I’m Jongin. And this is...?” he asks, looking at Baekhyun.

“I’m his partner,” Chanyeol says quickly, not giving Baekhyun a chance to reply. “Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol.”

Jongin nods quickly, looks up and down the streets and then steps into the building, waving them to follow. Inside, Chanyeol recognizes the place as one of their poorest safe houses, all darkness and rats and roaches.

Baekhyun is here to meet with a dead man. The guy smiles as he pulls himself into the room. His left leg is bound with splints so he can’t bend the knee, and his right arm is in a sling. Blood has seeped through the bandages around his elbow. He has short gray hair, is muscular in a tough-old-man way, and though his face is drawn and gray, he’s smiling.

“Baekhyun,” he says. “It’s good to see that you’re still around.”

Baekhyun smiles one of his small, cold smiles, and rather than commenting on the man’s appearance– he looks like he has been sleeping in gutters, his clothes are soiled, and he stinks – he nods.

The man hops to a chair and sits.

“What can I do for you, General?” Baekhyun asks and takes a seat as well sinking into the dark brown cushions. He looks almost like a boy, talking to his grandfather. Chanyeol has to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re too kind,” the general says, making it sound like an insult. “I come here as little more than what you see: I look like a beggar, and I’ve come to beg. But I am more than a beggar. I’ve been in this business for sixty years now, and I have ears everywhere. Having joined as a little boy, I know all the important faces in Korea and even across the border. I know you’re facing a fight.”

Baekhyun nods. “Do Kyungsoo,” he mutters.

“He’ll destroy you unless you destroy him first. You need loyal people everywhere, and I am one. I can make anyone more efficient, more disciplined, and better at killing. Just give me a place and put me in charge of men.”

Baekhyun rocks back in his chair, tending his fingers. He stares at the old man for a long time. Chanyeol schools himself to silence.

“Why are you here, General?” Baekhyun asks. “Why me? Kim Junmyeon is the boss of this district, not me. He can put you in charge of hundreds of men.”

Jongin says, “We heard you were killed in an ambush.”

“I survived,” the old man retorts bitterly. “After almost being beaten to death, I managed to hide underneath a table.”

“A table?” Jongin asks. “How did you–”

“Anyway,” the old man interrupts, unwilling to hear any more. “I crawled away. When I got home, my wife had been taken. I don’t know if she’s dead or if she’s one of their entertainments.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jongin says. In the lamplight, there’s something about his face. It’s nice or it’s nasty. There’s no telling.

The old man continues without looking at him, his face rigid. “I decided to live and make myself useful, Byun. The gangs want to fight a war. It’s all about who will win over the district. Kim Taeyeon will try to wink and flatter her way up. But she and her followers don’t have the will to win. I do, and I think you do too. Junmyeon is tired. He has gone soft. Let him settle down and fight for your deserved spot.”

“Are you proposing to serve me or be my partner?” Baekhyun asks.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass,” the old man says, then he pauses. “And I know a lot more about rats’ asses now than I ever thought I would.”

“And what happens if Baekhyun manages to become the new leader of the Seoul district?” Jongin asks.

“If we win, you’ll probably decide I’m too dangerous and have me killed.” The old man smiles thinly. “At the moment, that doesn’t bother me much.”

“I see.” Jongin runs his hands through his hair, thinking. “I’ll have no divided loyalty, General. You’ll serve Baekhyun, and only Baekhyun. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Everyone I’ve been loyal to is dead,” the man says. He shrugs. “Except maybe my wife. But I have some questions. What are the highest members in Mafia currently thinking? What are their plans? And what role have you all in this war?”

Baekhyun is silent.

“I’m one of Baekhyun’s ears. My currency is information and I have connection to everyone in the underground world,” Jongin explains. “Baekhyun – as you probably know already – is one of the best skilled fighters the Mafia got and normally nothing would stand between him and becoming the new boss but the men don’t trust him. You see, he’s quite… infamous in the district.”

“Wu Yifan was supposed to become the new official leader of the Seoul district but he was killed a few moons ago. Junmyeon has no children so that leaves out the possibility of a son stepping in his footsteps. Several other gangs have sensed our weakness and are getting bold. Do Kyungsoo’s gang The Vultures is gaining more and more followers and his men rob and kill ours on the streets daily.

“Soul is the center of our power, General, and our men are dying on the streets. The highest members don’t care what happens here since they’re too focused on who’s going to take over the district after Junmyeon. If we want to survive—and by we, I mean the gang, but also the street rats, the dealers, the gamblers and every wretched soul in Seoul who’s working for us– things have to change.”

“So what are you going to do?” the old man asks.

“We’re going to strengthen us and our allies. Everyone knows me,” Jongin says. “I can hire bashers to guard our street rats; I can adjudicate disputes; I can direct the building of shelters.”

“That makes you a target,” the old man argues.

“Jongin is a target no matter what,” Baekhyun says. “He’s loyal to me like no one else and I’ve learned that Do Kyungsoo is searching for me. This means great danger for everyone who’s in close contact with me. Do might change his mind any day, whether I act publicly or whether I stay in the shadows. I can’t control that, so we might as well do what needs to be done.”

Baekhyun is as calm and quiet as any veteran warrior going into battle. Chanyeol can tell that the General is astounded.

“Tell me my part,” he says.

Jongin nods and explains, “You take your pick of men I work with and of those which Baekhyun trusts and train them. After that, I want you to make defenses we can use if other gangs attack us. Kyungsoo’s gang has some of our best people on their side. The only reason I’m still alive is that they don’t know who I am. But welcome aboard.”

“My pleasure.” The old man bows awkwardly because of his injuries and follows a big bodyguard out the door.

When he is gone, Jongin turns to Baekhyun. “You didn’t tell me you knew each other.”

“I don’t think I do know this man,” Baekhyun replies and stands up quickly. Jongin nods politely, getting the hint. “Contact me as always,” he says and then quickly exists the building.

Suddenly, a slight smile touches Baekhyun’s lips. “What is it?” he asks, standing up from where he was seated.

Chanyeol looked briefly at his eyes, which are sharply attentive, and then turns a bit to look elsewhere; at the couch, the table, the dirt, the door. “The General. Where do you know him from?” he finally asks.

Baekhyun titles his head a bit to the side causing strands of hair to fall into his eyes. “He took care of me when I was a child. He loved me like his son. I was naive. I thought I loved him, too, and I ruined him.” He lifts a brow. "Is that all?" 

Chanyeol bites his lip. "Since when are you interested in mafia politics? I'm a bit confused."

Baekhyun hesitates. It's the first time Chanyeol has seen him this way. It's weird, almost as if the short man is scared of something but that thought is ridiculous. What in the world could frighten Byun Baekhyun? 

"Things... have come to my attention," the man finally says. "You are naive if you think I care about the suffering of others. There are things you don't understand, boy. Being in a position of power can sometimes be of great importance."

Chanyeol blinks a few times, trying to make sense of Baekhyun's word and eventually gives up.

“Did you love him?” he then asks and clears his throat. Being quiet for so long had been a challenge.

Baekhyun smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. This mask seems pure reflex. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. What does it matter?”

 

* * *

 

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Sehun asks. His dark eyebrows are pushed together, forming the little worry wrinkles that Chanyeol is getting to know so well.

Chanyeol sits on the bed, rubbing his temples. He’s so tired of this. So tired of everything. Does Sehun really expect him to answer? Of course he does. It’s all words and wasted air. Why does his best friend always want to talk about his problems? It’s not like that would fix anything. Some issues are corpses. Better to bury it and move on.

Like Yifan. Worm food.

“Will you please just stop,” Chanyeol whines. “Junmyeon knows what’s best for me. And I feel like me and Byun are finally getting along.”

“Junmyeon gave you a lot of things, beatings not least among them. He’s an evil man,” Sehun argues.

That one stirs some rage. “You don’t know anything about Kim Junmyeon! He’s a great man. He does everything to give me a chance—”

“Fine, fine! Let’s talk about what I do know,” Sehun says. He’s on the verge of tears again, damn him. He’s just as frustrated as Chanyeol is. What makes it worse is that Sehun isn’t trying to manipulate him with those tears. “Byun Baekhyun is not a person you want as a friend. He’s a person you want as far away from you as possible! You are not made for this kind of work, Chanyeol.”

“And why not?” Chanyeol asks and stands up. He can see Sehun’s eyes welling, but he doesn’t cry. “Baekhyun is dangerous but that’s also what makes his alleys so strong. Others fear him and so do they fear his friends.”

Chanyeol sighs. It’s true. Baekhyun knows the music of the streets. He speaks the language of animals, plays the subtle chords of intimidation, sings fear into the hearts of men. He knows and loves that music. Chanyeol doesn’t understand how Sehun isn’t able to see how much they could benefit from that.

“I say l trust you, Chanyeol,” Sehun says quietly. His face calms and the worry wrinkle disappear. “I believe in you, and I’m with you, no matter what. Even though I know you’re making a huge mistake..” he breathes. “But I can accept it. All right? I won’t bring it up again.”

So now he is really the asshole. Sehun is going to accept him. How noble. The worst of it is Chanyeol knows– dammit, he knows because he can always see through his best friend –that Sehun isn’t grabbing the moral high ground to be a bitch. He’s trying to do the right thing. It just makes the contrast between them that much more pronounced.

“Thanks,” he mutters and goes into his room. He dresses in moments– Baekhyun has made him practice even this –strapping knives to his arms and legs and adjusting the gray folds of cloth so they dampen all sound.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going?”

Baekhyun grabs him by the hand and moves forward. “Be quiet.”

They slide past a small group of men waiting to rob whatever drunk might stumble down their alley. Baekhyun stops, presses Chanyeol against the nearest wall and points a finger at them.

“Watch.”

Chanyeol is fully alive. He is there, every sense attuned, every fiber of his being poised to act, prepared to flee, attack, jump, duck, hide— something. As he looks closer at the group he sees one of them is holding a knife in one hand and a beer bottle in the other. He watches the faces of all four young men as they joke and talk.

“Guys, shut up!” the man nearest Chanyeol says. “We’ll never get anyone if you idiots keep talking.”

The men quiet. One pair of eyes pass straight over where Chanyeol is standing. Chanyeol has to keep himself from gasping aloud— there’s something in the man’s eyes. Something dark. It itches at something in the back of Chanyeol’s mind.

Down the alley, a man stumbles out of an inn. He braces himself against a wall and then turns to walk towards the group of men. What are we doing here? Chanyeol asks himself. He looks down at Baekhyun whose face is hidden by the darkness. What should he do if they start beating the drunk? He has no idea. Or maybe he knows exactly what he should do, and he can’t do that.

That’s when the realization hits him— this is different from their usual jobs. This is personal. And it’s not Junmyeon whom Chanyeol is going to disappoint tonight. Now Chanyeol feels miserable and ashamed, sorry for himself and for him, because it’s so impossible and so embarrassing because Chanyeol is too weak to do it.

He turns and walks into another alley, feeling Baekhyun’s eyes drilling into his back. When he hears a shout—and is that the thud of a fist hitting flesh?—he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t look back. Then he sees a girl at the end of the alley, being followed by three men. What the hell was she doing out this late? Chanyeol asks himself. Anyone in this part of town must know how stupid it’s for a girl to travel alone at night.

It’s none of his business. Golden Hair looks over her shoulder and Chanyeol can see her tear-streaked face. Wonderful. He stops. Dammit. Then he swears, loudly. In the street below, all foor people look back, but of course they don’t see him and Baekhyun. It’s too dark to make out their slim, black figures. They don’t see Chanyeol turning to Baekhyun, hoping the latter might tell him to go home and the swift shake of a head before Chanyeol turns once more and starts following them.

If they catch her, Chanyeol has to kill them. He will have to hurt them to get them off her, and then what is he going to do? Beat them up? Let them spread they story? Someone would connect him to the Soul Mafia, sooner or later. No, if they catch her, and he has to do exactly what Baekhyun wants him to do; kill them. So there’s only one thing to do: make sure they don’t catch her.

Golden Hair does the first sensible thing she has done all night—she starts running. The four men split up and start after her. Chanyeol draws a knife and runs behind one of the running men, times the man’s steps, and with the sheathed knife he knocks one foot behind the other in the middle of the man’s stride. The man goes down hard, and his partner barely has time to look over his shoulder before he too encounters the ground in a far more intimate fashion than he would like.

Both men curse, but they aren’t too bright. They don’t care about Chanyeol who they dismiss as a rat of the night; a thief; some random thug but are only focused on the girl. They jump up and start running after her again, once more closing ground rapidly. This time, Chanyeol trips one into the other one. They go down in a tangle of limbs and by the time Chanyeol has managed to knock them unconscious, the girl is gone.

He has lost sight of the girl and the remaining two men. Chanyeol sprints down the next street, and as he runs, he catches sight of blonde hair. The girl is about a block away from the only house in a dim alley that has a lantern burning in the window. Doubtless it’s her home.

Then he sees the men, coming down an intersecting alley Golden Hair has to pass. The man catch sight of her and sink back into the shadows. There’s no time. Chanyeol has mere seconds to think. Baekhyun is right behind him, Chanyeol can feel his presence; the warm breath in his neck, the cold eyes analysing the scene. It calms him and gives him confidence and a feeling of power at the same time.

Chanyeol runs towards where the men are hidden in the shadows, and comes to stand in front of one of them. The man has drawn a knife and in an instant Chanyeol sees from the pools of darkness in his eyes a deep, unreasoning hatred spawning from some perceived slight. This man has murdered before, and he’s planning to murder the blonde girl tonight. Chanyeol doesn't know how he knows that, but he knows. And seeing that darkness that demands death, it comes to him that he has seen it before. He has seen it in Baekhyun’s eyes.

There’s a moment of stunned silence as Chanyeol and the man stare at each other. A second after, the man attacks him and Chanyeol acts on instinct, darts out, punching through the man’s solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and pinning him to the wall.

Around the corner, a door flings open and the girl is ushered inside in a storm of blubbered apologies and tears. On Chanyeol’s left, Baekhyun quickly grabs the other criminal’s hand that was about to punch Chanyeol in the face, dislocating his shoulder. Chanyeol twitches at the man’s scream but has no time to turn and see what Baekhyun is doing since the man in front of him tries to grab for his gun. He’s straining to breathe and his hands are shaking.

Chanyeol instantly starts to punch him again and again, crushing his ribs and pressing him tight against the wall. His legs are completely limp now and Chanyeol wonders if he has partially cut his spine, because the only thing keeping him standing is Chanyeol’s hand pinning him to the wall.

Damn me, what have I done? Chanyeol thinks and pulls back and the man falls. Next to him, Baekhyun comes to stand still. There’s sweat all of his face, neck and collarbones but his chest lays still, his calm eyes drilling themselves into Chanyeol’s. His knife is dripping red, the man he has fought a mere body on the ground. It’s then, when their eyes lock, that Chanyeol sees beyond the darkness and looks at something much more hypnotizing; there’s desire; anticipation, so raw and funerable it makes his head spin.

It’s an offer, Chanyeol realizes. And there’s a decision to be made. Standing with his legs in two worlds, Chanyeol is unsuccessful in both; ruining slowly but surely everything that is dear to him. And still – he’s holding back. Becoming a monster, fully giving up on his old life would mean turning to something strange; unfamiliar, inevitably leaving the person behind that is Sehun’s best friend. Turning away from Baekhyun, on the other hand, will make him loose Junmyeon, his home, his job and his life.

It’s then when it strikes Chanyeol – he has been running around with a decided decision. The realization comes slow and late, but clear. There’s no place for Chanyeol in the ordinary life. He can’t be a best friend, a son, a lover, a boy anymore. And it’s Baekhyun who has known this all along and it’s him who’s extending his hand, wanting Chanyeol to fight side by side with him.

_I’m sorry Sehun. But I cannot keep lying to myself._

Passionately, Chanyeol stabs his knife into the man’s heart. It’s blood and death and destruction but it’s also Baekhyun’s smile and the sudden connection between them; these invisible, thread-like, transparent hearts. Chanyeol’s committed now.

Baekhyun nods shortly, and then points at the bodies. They can’t leave them here. It’s unprofessional, and their discovery would certainly wreck the happiness that can be heard through the open windows. There’s blood on the wall, so Chanyeol scrubs dirt over it.

Inside, he can hear parents and child reconcile. Mother is severing some soup and clucks about how worried they had been. The girl is telling her story of how she had been followed and managed to run away.

Chanyeol feels a surge of pride, followed by disgust at how sweetly domestic it is. But that is a lie. He isn’t disgusted. He is moved. Moved and lonely. He is left outside, in the streets with the dead. Baekhyun kicks dirt over the blood on the ground, and stuffs rags into the corpse’s wounds.

“Praise the God,” the mother says. “Your father and I have been praying for you the whole time.”

 _That’s me_ , Chanyeol thinks as he heaves one body over his shoulder, _the answer to everyone’s prayers._

Except Sehun’s.

 

* * *

 

He has to kill Park Chanyeol.

Luhan stands outside of Tao’s safe house and leans his head against the doorframe. He needs to go inside, face Tao, get ready, and go kill Park. As simple as that, and his job will be done and he will never have to face Tao again. Yifan had once even promised he could kill Tao if he wanted. But now Yifan is dead. Luhan looks down at his hands.

During the year he had spent learning the trade at Yifan’s, the tall man had been his only friend. And even though he had been a cruel man, Luhan has always felt a kind of special bond between them.

He stops himself from thinking any further. He has a job to do. Luhan opens the door slowly, standing to one side and holding his open hands in the gap. Sometimes when Tao is on drugs, he attacks first and doesn’t ask questions. When no attack comes, Luhan walks in.

Tao sits bare-chested in the corner of the room in a chair, and his eyes are closed. He isn’t asleep, though. Luhan is intimately attuned to his boss’s every nuance; he knows how he breaths when he really sleeps.

Pretending to believe he’s asleep, Luhan glances in the bedroom. Two women are lying in the bed. Luhan ignores them and starts gathering his gear. Finding Chanyeol would be no problem. He has only to put out word that Tao wants to meet with him, and Chanyeol will welcome him alone. Guards will make sure he has no weapons on him, but after a time alone with the guy, they will relax or Chanyeol will dismiss the guards and Luhan can kill him with his bare hands. The problem is how not to kill Chanyeol.

Tao wants him alive; wants him all for himself. Luhan doesn’t know exactly what Tao’s plan involves but he’s sure it will be some kind of torture. Managing to get Chanyeol to Tao without killing him will be extremely hard. He isn’t going to do it. Fuck Tao. But the only way Tao will excuse his disobedience in this is if he can do something else that pleasures Tao even more. Luhan unlocks a wide cabinet and slides a drawer out.

It holds his collection of wigs, the best money could buy. Luhan is an expert at taking care of them, styling them, putting them on, and affixing them firmly enough. This hair is his own, and it’s precious to him. He hates when men try to touch the wigs, but he can tolerate it. After selecting a fine, straight black wig, Luhan packs his weapons.

He’s putting on his bag when a hand grabs his ass and squeezes viciously. Luhan gasps, flinching in pain and surprise, and hating himself a moment afterward. Tao chuckles low in his ear, pressing his body against his back. “Where’ve you been?” he asks, trailing his hands down to Luhan’s hips.

“Working. Remember?” he mutters, turning with difficulty. Tao wraps himself around him, and the revulsion and hatred overcomes Luhan for one moment with the familiar passivity before losing. He lets the intoxicated man push his head to one side and Tao can bite his neck.

Tao kisses him gently, then stops. “You’re not wearing that perfume I like,” he complains, still mellow, but with a note of surprise in his voice that Luhan can be so stupid. Luhan knows his master well enough to know Tao is a fraction from violence.

“I’ve been working. For you.” He doesn’t let the smallest whiff of fear sneak into his voice. Showing fear to Tao is like throwing bloody meat to a pack of wolves.

“Oh,” Tao mumbles, abruptly mellow once more. His eyes are widely dilated. Probably drugs. “I’ve been having a little party. Celebrating.” He waves toward the bedroom. “Wanna join us?”

“What are you celebrating?” Luhan asks.

“Park Chanyeol,” Tao says. He releases Luhan abruptly and dances in a little circle. “Park Chanyeol is soon mine.” He laughs.

Luhan grabs Tao’s arm, preventing him to fall and guides him to his chair. “Where is he, master? Where can I find him?”

“You know, you don’t come around enough, you bitch.” Tao face turns ugly and he pulls Luhan roughly into his lap. Luhan lets himself fall into his arms, making himself numb, distracting Tao with his body.

“Where is Junmyeon’s favourite boy, master?” Luhan asks. “Where is he hiding?”

“He’s not hiding, that stupid brat. He moved into the glass tower. You know the one near the Han River. Who’s the best now, huh?”

“You’re the best,” Luhan says, easing off his lap. “You’ve always been the best.”

“Han Lu,” Tao mumbles. Luhan freezes. The master never calls him by his full name. He turns warily, looking into Tao’s half-lidded eyes.

“I love you,” Tao says. “These bitches got nothing...” his words trail off and his breath takes on the cadence of sleep. Luhan suddenly wants a cold shower. He grabs his bags and his gun. Then stops.

Tao is unconscious. Luhan is sure of it. He could draw his knife and bury it in his boss’s heart in less than a second. Tao definitely deserves it a hundred times over. He deserves a hundred times worse. Luhan takes the hilt in his hand and draws the knife slowly, silently. He turns and looks at the sleeping man, thinking of the hundreds of humiliations he has inflicted on him. It’s hard to breathe.

Luhan turns on his heel, sheathes the knife and leaves.

 

* * *

 

“Is the mafia at war?” Chanyeol asks.

Baekhyun shifts in his seat and says nothing. Their hidden underground base has taken on the appearance of a war room, that’s sure. Baekhyun has brought maps. They’re gathering data on Do Kyungsoo’s gang strength, noting where each unit is stationed, where money and drugs are distributed, and constructing a chart of The Vultures hierarchy, cross-referenced with where Junmyeon’s gang has informants, along with ratings of the informants’ reliability and access.

“That’s a more difficult question to answer,” Jongin says.

“No,” Baekhyun retorts. “It’s not.”

Jongin opens his mouth, remembers to whom he is speaking, and closes it. 

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “I feel that we’re in a kind of war—”

“You feel? Are you a gangster or a poet, sissy boy?” Jongin snorts.

“Sissy boy?” Baekhyun sighs, obviously annoyed at the two men arguing.

Chanyeol stands up, heated.

“Sit down,” both men say. They look at each other and Jongin scows. Chanyeol sniffs, and sits. After a moment, he says, “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Do you have a dick or do you just suck them?” Jongin asks.

“Are you hoping to get lucky?” Chanyeol asks back.

“Wrong answer,” Jongin says, shaking his head before standing up and slowly walking up to Chanyeol. Baekhyun, probably sensing whats about to happen, averts his gaze. 

"Oh, really? What are you going to–"

Jongin punches Chanyeol in the face. Hard. Chanyeol collapses on his knees, surprised by the attack. 

Jongin leans down a bit, his face tense.  “That’s how I lead, boy. I hit when people aren’t expecting it. I listen to you, but you stand underneath me. The next time you make a stupid comment, I’ll have yours fed to you.” His face is cool. He draws his gun and brings it between Chanyeol’s legs. “That’s not an idle threat.”

Chanyeol nods, not really frightened but also not in the mood to die. Jongin steps back, clearly pleased and Chanyeol grabs for the table and lifts him self onto his feet.  “Well, we’ve just had a teachable moment. I’m touched. I think I’ll write a poem. Your answer is... ?”

The poem comment almost sets Jongin off. He’s about to say something when he sees Baekhyun’s mouth twitch. It’s a joke. So this is Baekhyun’s humor. Jongin shakes his head. This is going to be a challenge.

“We’re at war,” Jongin says, not liking the feeling of giving in.

“How good is your grip on The Vultures?” Baekhyun asks, ignoring his comment.

“Not great,” Jongin explains. “Yifan’s lead had an impressive influence, but revenue is way down, and command is breaking down: people not reporting to superiors, that sort of thing. A lot of people think the occupation is bound to get easier now. They want business as usual.”

“Sounds smart of them,” the general sounds from the couch. “What’s your master plan to oppose them?”

Jongin frowns. There’s no master plan, and the old man makes that seem incredibly stupid. “I had planned to see what they did. I wanted to learn more about them and then fight them however I needed to.”

“Does it strike you as a good idea to let your enemy launch fully formed attacks on you and then be forced to react from a position of weakness?” Chanyeol asks.

“That’s more a rhetorical thought than a question,” Jongin says.

“Thank you,” the Chanyeol mutters, rolling his eyes. Jongin can see how Baekhyun suppresses a smile.

“What do you propose?” he asks the General.

“Do Kyungsoo rules The Vultures in total secrecy, with puppets, right?”

Jongin nods.

“So who’s been the puppet as of late?”

Jongin winces. “I, uh, haven’t exactly figured that out.”

“Not exactly?” Baekhyun arches an eyebrow.

“That’s a problem,” the general mutters. “If you look at if from the streets… for more than a month, they’ve had no leader. Junmyeon is sitting in his office, planning his retirement. Sure, Jongin’s has been helping everyone and so far it’s going well, but your mafia thugs– sorry, people – are facing a war without a leader. Kyungsoo has been a shadow these past years, and he had to, because this gang had been a serious threat to him. But now? Without a real leader or any kind of strategy… this gang is weak. And this is a war. One needs an army. Armies need a leader and Kyungsoo can’t be one from the shadows. He will attack us soon.”

“They’ll kill me,” Baekhyun says.

“They’ll try,” the general nods. “And they’ll succeed unless you can collect a core of competent people who are absolutely loyal to you. People willing to kill and to die for you.”

“These aren’t men from good families who’ve been brought up on loyalty and duty and courage,” Jongin argues. “We’re talking about thieves, thugs, prostitutes and murders, people who only think about themselves and their own survival.”

“And that’s what they’ll say,” the General says so quietly Jongin barely hears him, “unless you see what they may be, and make them see it.”

“Seriously?” Chanyeol asks, obviously not convinced yet.

“When I was younger, my best soldiers came from the streets,” the general confirms. “They became the best because they had everything to gain.”

“So what do you think we should do?” Jongin asks.

“I propose you work yourself out of a job,” the General says. “Give them a dream of a better life, a better way for their children, and a chance to see themselves as heroes, and you’ll have yourself that army.”

He paused to let it sink in, and soon Chanyeol’s heart is pounding, his mind racing. It’s crazy. Big. It’s a chance to use power for more than just keeping power. He can see the outlines of a plan starting to fit together. His mind is already tapping what people he would place in which positions. Fragments of speeches are glomming together. Oh, it’s seductive.

The General isn’t just telling Baekhyun to give the street folk a dream; the general is giving Chanyeol a dream. He could be a different type of criminal. He could be noble. Revered. If successful, he could probably even become legitimate, be given real titles. Gods, it’s seductive!

“Sounds simple,” Jongin shrugs, looking at Baekhyun for approval. “Telling them some stories–”

“Simple?” Chanyeol exclaims then, rage taking over once more. Lies. Of course. Stupid little dreams.

“Pretty boy,” Baekhyun says, his voice free of emotions. “Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s a lie.”

Chanyeol looks from one to the other of them, wondering how deeply they’re reading him. Baekhyun probably reads him to the core. It’s scary.

Sehun has said he can’t imagine Seoul without the mafia polluting everything, but Chanyeol can. It would be a city where birth in certain places didn’t mean hopelessness, exploitation, time in gangs, poverty, and death. He has been lucky to get a job working for Junmyeon but the gang offers no honest jobs, certainly not for orphans. But it could be different, couldn’t it?

 _Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s a lie_.

“Fine,” he says and shrugs. Not that his opinion matters, really.

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun sits on the bed in the darkness looking at the pale sky. War. He’s thirsty for it. The blood, the death, the destruction. Like a creature of the night, Baekhyun thinks, chuckling, licking his lips. _Creature_.

He looks up at the moon. Once he had wanted to be a good man, ached for it. After that first night, he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t kill again. He would go out and train, but he wouldn’t kill. So he had trained for nothing and honed abilities he had sworn not to use. But training is a pale imitation of battle and he hadn’t been satisfied with it.

Baekhyun holds his knife in his lap, looking at his hand that has killed so many. Every day, he had promised himself he wouldn’t kill, not ever again. But for what? He had never felt guilty for the murders. These kills did nothing. He had needed them. For what– he doesn’t know.

Baekhyun brushes his his fingertips over the knife. It’s not often that he thinks back. Behind the blood; the sweet rush; the addicting pulse of life with its warmth that draws him in, pulling him close and covering all of him– there’s the darkness. Mouths; wet and cold, kissing and licking. Salvia; oh so sticky. Teeth; yellow and moudly. Hands; caressing him, pulling, scratching, twisting– touching.

 _A Whore_. That's what he had been back then. Baekhyun’d chosen the slur on purpose, to show it had no power over him. But even among whores, boys are second-class. They might be adored by the girls, but the clientele treats male prostitutes like dirt. And then he can taste it, right under his tongue. The darkness moving, expanding..

He hasn’t slept with a man since he left the brothel, but he hasn’t slept with a woman, either. Most of his clients were men, but there had been women too, from the entire range of levels of attractiveness. Now there’s only darkness. When they look at him differently, when they flirt– It’s terrifying. Flirtation carries demands. It carries a piece of darkness within.

Baekhyun’s hands begin to shake. There are Chanyeol’s lips, sweat and thumping of loud music. So close. No darkness. Baekhyun shakes his head. He’s losing his focus. He can’t think about this now. He drags a thumb over the knife, watching as the wound starts to bleed and it’s like being able to breath again. His muscles relax, and it’s like everything is new. It’s like actually being alive again for the first time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that it was so short. i'm having summer holidays soon which means more time and energy uwu <3


	4. IV

Did I die and not notice? Chanyeol asks himself. He’s moving through a thick fog, a strange moving-without-moving feeling against his skin. A cloaked figure stands beyond the edge of the fog, as ethereal as the fog itself, and Chanyeol is sure he’s dead but he can’t remember dying. Has he? Has someone killed him in his sleep?

“What is this? A dream?” Chanyeol asks out loud.

The cloaked man turns, and Chanyeol’s tension melts. It isn’t death in person. It’s Byun Baekhyun.

“A dream?” Baekhyun asks. He squints at Chanyeol through the fog. “Maybe.”

He smiles. He’s handsome, if intense. His silver hair is uncombed, his blue eyes intelligent, his features balanced.

“Why is it that we don’t fear dreams? We lose consciousness, lose control, things happen with no apparent logic but we rarely question it.”

“What the hell is going on?”

Baekhyun smirks. He looks Chanyeol up and down. “Amazing. You look exactly the same, but you’re totally different, aren’t you?”

Chanyeol slowly shakes his head. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Things have changed haven’t they?” Baekhyun says as if Chanyeol hasn’t spoken, “In this, we are brothers, Chanyeol. Life gives simpler problems to lesser men. I’m here because you need me.”

Chanyeol looks into the fog, trying to make sense of Baekhyun’s words. The entire place seems a fit metaphor for his life—stuck in twilight with nothing definite, nothing solid, no simple path.

“I’m trying to change,” he says, “but it’s hard. I thought I could just break with my past and move and be done with it. I’m doing all these criminal things and it feels good. I feel in control.”

“Until?” Baekhyun asks. He always knows too much. It’s unnerving.

Chanyeol hesitates. “Until I remember. I have to make myself think that my instincts are wrong. And then I hate what I’m becoming.”

“And what is that?” Baekhyun asks.

“A murderer.”

Baekhyun titles his head to the side. Looks at him. “You need to let go of how you think things are.”

Chanyeol is close to tears. He hates Baekhyun. Hates him because he’s starting to understand the evil. Because he has never felt so alive as when he had been bathed in blood. Because Baekhyun is a master with the knife and Chanyeol loves what he can do. Because Baekhyun is the shadow; the darkness; the night. Because when Chanyeol kills an evil man, he doesn’t just feel the pleasure of justice, he feels the whole world’s pleasure—an evil man is an insult and he erases the disgrace.

Baekhyun balances the imbalance. And Chanyeol loves that—and Sehun would have to lose his innocence to understand that man. Because Baekhyun is the night and the night is in Chanyeol.

“And how should I instead think?” Chanyeol asks, blinking away tears. He tries to say it lightly, as if amused, but he doesn’t quite put in the effort to make it convincing.

“You don’t know?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I never know what you want.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “That’s how I want it.”

 

* * *

 

Despite all the reasons Chanyeol has to be grumpy, when Sehun is in a good mood, it’s hard not to be happy. After a quick breakfast and a cup of tea to stave off weariness, Chanyeol finds himself wandering the streets with his best friend.

“This is cute, isn’t it?” the tall boy asks, picking up a doll from a merchant’s table, smiling brightly.

Why is Sehun so happy? Chanyeol can’t remember having done anything good. Ever since he has started going on missions with Baekhyun, he has expected to have The Talk. Instead, one night Sehun had grabbed his hand—he’d almost jumped out of his skin, so much for being the imperturbable killer—and his best friend had said, “Chanyeol, I love you, and I trust you.”

Sehun hasn’t said anything since then and Chanyeol sure hasn’t. What is he supposed to say? “Um, actually, I have killed someone, but Baekhyun twisted my thoughts and made me do it, and he was a bad man too”?

“I don’t think we can really buy it though,” Sehun sighs. “40.000 Won is just crazy. But it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to spend the day with you.” He smiles.

Maybe it’s just a mood swing. Mood swings have to have an up side, right?

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. He only feels a little awkward walking around on the market like a normal citizen. At first, he’d felt like everyone was staring at them. Now, though, he sees that only a few people look at them twice, and of those, most seem to be approving.

“Ahaa” a round little man bellows at them. “Perfect. Perfect. Absolutely lovely. Marvelous, you are. Yes, yes, come right in.”

Chanyeol is so startled he barely stops himself from a quickly rearranging the man’s face. His best friend laughs and pokes the tense muscles of his arm. “Come on, idiot,” he laughs. “This is shopping. It’s fun.”

“Fun?” Chanyeol asks as his best friend pulls him into the little shop.

The small man quickly hands them off to a pretty girl of maybe eighteen who smiles brightly at them. She’s petite, with a slender figure, light blue eyes, and a large mouth that makes her smile huge. It’s Golden Hair. Chanyeol almost chokes on his tongue.

“Hello,” Golden Hair says. “I’m Eunseo. Have you ever been to Suits&Co before?”

After Chanyeol doesn’t say anything for a long moment, Sehun gently digs an elbow into his ribs. “No,” he says.

Chanyeol blinks. His best friend is shaking his head at him, obviously thinking he’s ogling Eunseo. Chanyeol shakes his head, No, it’s not like that.

Sehun cocks an eyebrow at him. Right.

“Well, let’s start at the beginning then,” Eunseo says, pulling out a drawer lined with velvet and putting it on a counter. It’s filled with small, paired cufflinks of gold and silver, some decorated garnets or pals, some plain, some textured.

  
“You’ve seen people wearing these all over the city, right?”

Sehun nods. Chanyeol looks at her blankly. He’s still in shock.

Eunseo catches him looking and laughs. She has the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in, even when she’s laughing at you. “That doesn’t seem to impress you,” she says. “Well, maybe we need to find the right suit first.”

“It’s fine,” Sehun laughs and points at a pair of silvery-gold sparkling rings that looked suspiciously expensive. “Wow. Look at those! Aren’t they beautiful?”

He turns to Eunseo. “Will you tell us all about the cuff rings? We’re, ahem, a little unfamiliar with the tradition.”

“Sure,” Eunseo nods. She gives them a full tour through the shop, explaining everything to them; the different suit materials, the color options and cuts. Chanyeol doesn’t mind this, really and would under normal circumstances maybe even enjoy it but the fact that Eunseo is Golden Hair reminds him of the night in which he killed for the first time.

Haunted by the memories of bonding with Baekhyun through that weird ritual, Chanyeol just wants to to get out of the shop. “Right,” he suddenly says. “Well, thanks for your time Eunseo but we have to go.” He pulls Sehun out of the store.

His best friend is not pleased. Sehun stops in the street. “Chanyeol, you are a complete ass.”

It takes the wind out of him.

_Why am I always the asshole?_

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the day but I really don’t feel like shopping right now,” he explains gently, although he’s still pissed off, though he can’t say whether it’s at his best friend or at himself.

Sehun scoffs. “I’m not buying it. What is going on with you?”

“I just don’t feel well, alright?” Chanyeol says and raises his eyebrows, as if to say, We are in the middle of a crowded market, would you shut up?

His best friend crosses his arms.

Chanyeol swears under his breath. “Why’d you even take me in there? We don’t even have enough to pay the rent some days. How would we afford those?”

Sehun bites down on his lip and slowly brings his arms down. “I’m sorry, all right?” he says. “I just wanted to see what it was like.”

  
“It’s Baekhyun, isn’t it? You still want me to drop out.”

“Quit it! I haven’t said anything about him in a while. I’m sorry. I thought you might be interested. I’m not asking you to buy me anything or get a reliable, safe job.”

Sehun isn’t looking at Chanyeol now. Well, that is better than tears. Right?

They walk beside each other for a while as Sehun pretends to browse through the open air shops, picking up stuff, examining clothes, looking at things they can’t afford.

“So,” Chanyeol says finally. “Since we’re already fighting...”

His best friend turns and looks at him, not laughing. “I don’t want to talk about the cleaning schedule, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol raises his hands in mock surrender. Still trying to be funny. Still failing.

“Chanyeol, do you ever think about how it must feel like to kill someone?”

He doesn't have to think that hard. It’s pure power, the terrible pleasure of mastery, followed by desolation, a sick hollowness in his chest, knowing that he might have changed someday but having made that decision he would never have that chance. Could Sehun ever understand that a part of him loves it?

“Sehun, don’t think about stuff like this,” Chanyeol says.

“I’m just scared. One day you might have to do that… Look what a bitter, sad old man Junmyeon has become. I don’t want see that happen to you. Leave that life when you can, please. You can do jobs like I do, working from home on your computer or stuff like you did before; robbery, selling drugs. I know it’s not the best but it’s still better than risking your life like this.. Leave that life. You aren’t happy there. Why would you want to work with Baekhyun?”

“I don’t,” Chanyeol says. But it’s only half true. He hugs Sehun, but even as he holds his best friend, he knows he’s not saying the truth.

 

* * *

 

Luhan has been waiting a great deal. Waiting, observing. Now, with enough information collected, he feels ready to finally attack. While slowly approaching the building that he has been spying on these past weeks, Luhan keeps his senses attuned, pausing frequently, stopping when he feels the slightest trembling in the air. It makes for slow progress, but he’s patient.

_It’s just a simple job. I’ll never have to serve Tao in the bed or anywhere else, not ever again. I kill Park Chanyeol, and then I’m free. It’s close, Lu. So close. You can make it._

A minute later, Luhan is looking at the sniper in his hand, trying to convince himself to simply shoot. He’s on a rooftop looking into Park’s home. His back is to a chimney, and he’s hiding in the darkness. He’s not invisible by any means, but he’s close enough.

Chanyeol is sitting right in front of the window. The window is even open. Luhan is using a silent sniper, a gun so powerful that he could have shot right through a window, through shutters for that matter. But he doesn’t even need it.

The guy sits there, utterly exposed. Yet Luhan’s waiting. For what? He’s not sure. There’s something impersonal about shooting someone like this, not doing it with the hands, not feeling how life leaves the body.

Then, Chanyeol turns and a blonde man appears behind him. The tall man lifts his eyes and sees Luhan. Surprise lights his eyes, and is followed by fear. Luhan’s fingers turn limp and he slips. A bullet leaps across and seems to cut a red path through the air as if the night itself is bleeding.

“Fuck!”

The man goes down in a spray of blood, the bullet passing fully through the center of his head. His body drops to the wood floor like a sack of flour.

“Fucking fuck fuck!”

Luhan jumps up and curses once more. Now everything must be quick. He needs to hurry. In the matter of seconds, Luhan is down on the ground, shattering the front door of Park Chanyeol’s house. He’s so focused on his task he barely feels it when he cuts his hands on the glass.

It’s almost funny how weak Chanyeol is. It’s barely even a fight. Luhan slaps him, hard. Then he slaps him again, and again, and again, impassively, the way Tao slaps him when he’s bored. When the boy tries to get away, Luhan clamps his hand down on his throat, the threat explicit: the more you wiggle, the more you choke.

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun stands on a landing overlooking the warehouse floor. A few men are training under his watchful eye. Men who will follow him, not Junmyeon. Having lived under Junmyeon’s command for most of his life, Baekhyun knows that if the men were here now, Junmyeon would make these men see themselves as part of something vast and good. Under him, these men wouldn’t hesitate a second to give their lives. But Baekhyun isn’t like that.

“Do you think they’re ready?” he asks the General who’s standing next to him.

“More training will make them better. Battle will make them better faster. But it will cost lives,” the old man says.

Baekhyun smiles thinly. The general is underplaying his men’s capabilities. He has seen those men fight.

“Byun.”

He turns, his mask in place, eyes cool. “Yes?”

The severant blows out a great breath. “Someone was spotted near Park Chanyeol's house.”

Baekhyun pauses for a moment, then nods. “I see.”

Inside of him, something breaks. He’s not sure what. Turning abruptly and ignoring the General who’s screaming after him, Baekhyun leaves the landing, making his way down to his car. He’s walking so fast you could almost call it running.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing, nothing in all the world that Baekhyun can’t stand as much as feeling helpless. He has made so many mistakes. Lying to Junmyeon, killing Yifan, saving that boy, making himself this funerable. And for what? All to save pretty boy. He will never be able to forgive himself for his carelessness. It only takes one mistake to get you killed, and he has made many.

Hell, his lungs burned. “Son of a bitch,” Baekhyun mutters between clenched teeth and jumps out of his car.

Thank god he has eyes everywhere. Letting some of his men spy on pretty boy seems to be paying off now. Reaching the door, he quickly opens it with the key he had one of his man make a few weeks ago.

His skin prickles, but he can’t tell if it’s warm or cold here. The house is oddly quiet. Aside from his breathing, he hears nothing. Baekhyun’s stirred by a sudden panic. What if he’s too late?

Then: a noise that sounds awfully lot like someone's choking, coming from the living room. A change comes over Baekhyun in an instant. One moment, he’s a cold killer. The next moment, he’s pure rage. He’s moving so fast that the air begins to battle against him.

There’s barely time for him to think. Before he knows, he’s entering the room, rips pretty boy away from the intruder and draws a knife. The man is smaller than expected and looks fragile with his slim figure and tiny waist. Baekhyun blinks a few times to make sense of things. He doesn’t know the man before him but he has seen this face before; the small mouth; high cheekbones, and his eyes which are speaking of judgment without pity, of punishment without remorse.

Before Baekhyun can think anything further, the fragile looking man reaches out and grabs for his ankle, twisting it to the side. Baekhyun screams. Out of anger or pain– he can’t tell. He drops his knife unwillingly but manages to get out of the tight grip. Quickly, he tries to attack the man, aiming for his belly, throat, legs– anything he can reach. He attacks with all his power and hits nothing.

The man is fast. Fingers dig into Baekhyun’s elbow, hitting the pressure point and enervating his arm. A hand grabs his silver hair and smacks his face against the floor again and again, breaking his nose with the first smack.

Baekhyun has been beaten up before. He knows torture. It’s nothing to him. He grabs the hand that is painfully holding onto his hair and pulls it off– ripping out his own hair in the process of it. He almost faints– the pain making him fall forward on his knees but before his face can connect with the ground, he manages to catch himself and jumps to his feet.

The man gives him no moment to regain strength. His attacks are fast and clever and Baekhyun is unarmed and bleeding all over the place. It’s not a fair fight but nothing in life is fair. Baekhyun tries his best to fight off all the attacks, trying not to push himself too hard, trying to preserve his strength. The pain is nothing, he tells himself.

Then the man punches him in the face. Baekhyun can’t stop him. The guy is too strong; all of Baekhyun’s energy is exhausted. He stumbles to the side, having to rest his body on the wall to keep himself from falling.

The man laughs and smiles a predatory smile. “Pathetic. I’ve never seen someone fight this badly. Without thought and strategy.”

He spits to the ground, making a few steps towards Baekhyun.

“Weakling.”

The words barely reach Baekhyun. He couldn’t care less about this man’s opinion. Yes, he has fought badly – Baekhyun has to admit this, even though he’s unsure why – but he’s not ashamed. Rather, he is desperate. There must be a way to win this fight.

The man steps forward, his eyes calm and collected.

“Oh, look at you. What a sight. Do you want to cry for me?” he sneers. The tip of his knife touches Baekhyun’s throat.

Baekhyun wants to cry out, his body feels so weak. He can’t even feel himself standing. He just knows that if he tries to move any further he will collapse. His body is bathed in cold sweat. His vision is blurring.

The fragile man lifts his hand and Baekhyun paints a smile on his face and wills his body to relax. Then there is no fear, only calm certainty. If he can’t win, he will welcome death and embrace it.

Then: blood. Soiled, rotten blood. The man’s eyes become a dull grey and his knees give out, revealing Chanyeol behind him. His knife had slashed so deeply across the man’s neck it had almost decapitated him. Baekhyun’s emotions skitter from aroused to shocked.

The man’s upper body drops forward and meets the ground with a light thump. His body must still be warm but his face is already drained from all color, and there’s no life in his open, shining eyes. He’s dead.

Chanyeol staggers back like a drunk. He looks just as pale as the corpse to his feet. Haunted by what he did; scared and guilty. That’s a look Baekhyun has seen before. Maybe it’s this expression that opens him up, cuts through his skin and makes him feel.

Suddenly, the world is a violent red. Sharp edges, clean cuts. Anger is red but so is love. Where does this anger stop and love begin? Baekhyun’s stomach is a riot. Feelings are like a stone in the stomach, a punishment, a crime. It’s cutting oneself open and handing over the knife; it’s stupid and nonsense and a waste of time.

Chanyeol drops his bloody knife. He’s panting and drenched in his own sweat.

“Who is he?” he stutteres.

As his eyes bores into him, Baekhyun feels himself changing. He’s angry at himself, and at pretty boy, and at himself again. He had never let anything be more important than himself before. And now, in the blind stupidity of infatuation, it had been more important to him that Chanyeol was safe than that he himself alive.

Baekhyun grinds his teeth. “I’m not sure.”

Chanyeol nods sharply. “He just– There was a shot. He grabbed me by the throat– And Sehun. Fuck, Sehun.”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer. He looks at Chanyeol like a mother at her child when it fell and bloodied it’s knees. It’s compassion. Pretty boy’s pain goes right through him, past his walls and his coldness. It knifes through the ice and dead flesh that is him. Inside of him, deep down, something small and alive starts to warm up.

“Shut up.”

Baekhyun rises to his feet. His head is slowly clearing, and he could swear he can feel his body healing his bruises.

“Shut up?” Chanyeol’s voice is shaking. “My fucking best friend is dead– freaking murdered and someone broke into my house trying to kill me and you’re telling me to shut up?”

Baekhyun blinks. Something red flits across the surface of his eyes but he doesn’t say a word. What is there to say anyway? There’s too much pretty boy doesn’t understand.

Chanyeol takes a few steps forward and grabs for his shirt. Baekhyun lets him. He looks at Chanyeol’s lips and his head tilts of its own accord, lips parting slightly.

“You feel nothing, huh? This all just leaves you cold. You don’t care, right?” Chanyeol chokes out.

Baekhyun isn’t angry. He has always thought he’s a cold, heartless monster. He has taken hold of that identity. It has made him strong against the emptiness, the nothingness he’s carring for as long as he can remember.

_I am hollow. I have no heart, I feel no love, nor fear, nor sorrow._

But when Chanyeol wants to step back and turn, Baekhyun grabs his arm. Pretty boy has stirred something inside of him. What… Passion? Now he’s fighting for something. No, for someone, and it’s the first selfless thing he has ever done.

Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows. “Let go.”

Baekhyun steps close to him and puts a finger on his lips. Pretty boy lets out a small breath at the pressure, so subtle that it’s felt rather than heard.

“You don’t have to be good, Chanyeol. When will you ever realize? You don’t have to walk on your knees.”

He reaches up and pulls pretty boy down to him. He’s so strong and so quick there’s no resisting. His tongue easily slips between soft lips– lips soft as yellow clouds –and it feels like swallowing sunshine. It’s all languid heat, dripping down his spine and pooling in his belly.

He licks inside of his mouth and tastes warm, beating, frantic; music and blood. Impatient, Baekhyun gets a hand fisted in Chanyeol’s hair and tugs at the roots, relishes the whine that catches in the tall man’s throat.

He wants to taste it all; swallow the boy whole. A groan vibrates against his tongue and he shudders, eyes wound shut. The kiss is fragile, sinful, intimate. Baekhyun is greedy. He wants the soft skin of inner thighs and so he lets his hands travel.

_My body is a vessel but it's yours if you want it._

Chanyeol breaks away from him, breathing hard, his eyes fiery. Baekhyun glances up and reads shock and fear in every line of his body—along with a tinge of hope?

But then Chanyeol takes a step back, bringing space between them. Rejection. The pain makes Baekhyun’s eyes tear up. It shouldn’t matter, not really. In his very skin, his stomach, his spine, Baekhyun feels Chanyeol. His fingers tingle where he had touched pretty boy’s face.

He wants Chanyeol to know him. He wants to confess everything, expose his true core, with all the dirt and sourness and be forgiven. He wants Chanyeol to hold him, to touch his cheek, to run his fingers through his silver hair and—

That thought explodes against everything Baekhyun has ever known. The rush of emotion is too much, too intense, too vast to read, yet it doesn’t feel alien. It doesn’t feel wrong. He can hardly look at Chanyeol. He brushes past him, stumbling towards the general direction of the bathroom door.

Inside, he get a hold of the sink. Something spatters onto porcelain. It streams from his mouth, soggy and dripping, hits the sink with a wet sound. Every breath rattles in and heaves out, a flinch of the stomach, jump of the shoulders. Taking a steadily breath, Baekhyun calms himself. His face stills, he becomes cold again.

_You know, I used to be like you. For a long time. You should have known me back then. You would’ve liked me. We could have been friends._

 

* * *

 

Rejection physically hurts. It’s new information for Baekhyun. So many men in the mafia - even the boss Kim Junmyeon - have someone who they love; they’re safe, happy and real together. Even Minseok and Jongin sometimes trade looks that make it obvious that they like each other. Those looks, this love, fills Baekhyun with jealousy and yearning so strong he thinks his chest is going to cave in.

It’s not just lust, Baekhyun knows that. Lust isn’t comfortable, but it’s familiar and nothing to fear. This is a hunger, like his whole body is burning from the inside, drying up, about to crumple. Love is madness, weakness and vulnerability, and Baekhyun has sworn to never love.

If he can’t love, he will hate. He will find whoever sent that man to pretty boy’s house and torture them. It’s all their fault to begin with.

 

* * *

 

The air is cold outside the brothel. Baekhyun really doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It’s been ages since he has payed for sex. He doesn’t look down on sex workers but it’s not his thing. Baekhyun gets what he wants and when he wants, without having to pay for it.

It’s Chanyeol’s fault. Baekhyun knows the rules of survival, he can fuck but not love but Minseok is right. He’s thinking too much about pretty boy and that’s not good. It’s time to end this and get the kid out of his system.

“It’s just fucking, Baekhyun and that’s all you get,” he mutters to himself. “That’s the deal and you know this.”

The brothel has three stories. The first, where food and alcohol is severed and the guest can watch how pretty girls try their best at pole dancing. The second floor is full of whores, and drunk customers, sitting on couches, some smoking and having conversations, others shamelessly fucking. The guest rooms which grant more privacy are on the third floor.

Baekhyun makes his way upstairs.

“Hello, Byun,” greets him a woman on the second floor. She stands very close to him, close enough that the scent of sweat and sex wafts over him.

“Is there a way I can help you?” she asks, her voice pitched low, like they share a secret.

Baekhyun smirks. “I’m sure you can.”

She nods, evidently satisfied with the reply. “I have exactly what you like,” she smiles and gestures him to follow.

Turns out she’s right about that. The man is handsome. He will do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can forgive me for torturing and killing so many dear exo members. I love them all but this is a dark story and I want to keep it that way. This fic is brutal and there won't be much fluff.. I hope you can live with that. 
> 
> special thanks @ all of my loyal readers who have waited patiently for an update and who leave me sweet messages. you motivate me to keep going!

**Author's Note:**

> here's another one of those mafia au's no one asked for
> 
> I literally have no knowledge of anything related to the korean crime scene nor the korean mafia. This is just pure fantasy, but I hope it's still fun to read.


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